


Tether

by ravenstrange



Series: Tethered [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Agent of Fen'Harel, Also whoops?, Connections, Cullen might be getting into more trouble than he's asked for, Cullen visits the Fade, Cullen x Inquisitor is End Game in this, F/M, Fen'Harel has a thing for the Inquisitor, Fluff and Angst, Inquisitor is an unknown Agent, Not completely following canon, POV Cullen Rutherford, POV Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Potential Love Triangles, Solas the Trickster, Soulmarks, Tether Mark, The Author Regrets Nothing, Two Named Inquisitor, Unsolved Mysteries, missing memories, more tags to be added later, soul mates, this is going to get long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 107,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24168028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenstrange/pseuds/ravenstrange
Summary: Everyone has a Tether, a mark connecting them to other like-minded souls. Most have one in their life. Rarely, does anyone have more than that.Ashara emerges from the Conclave with more marks than she wishes: the anchor, a tether to the Dread Wolf, and a tether to someone symbolic with a lion. But the Conclave has also created other complications: there are large periods of her life that she does not remember. Ten years, if not more, are missing from her life. Her time in Kirkwall, though short lived, is a blur she doesn't remember. And the more she serves with the Inquisition, the more she starts to fear that she might not be the person everyone believes her to be.This is a story of connections, and how they change.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel / Inquisitor (Past)
Series: Tethered [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778137
Comments: 80
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

When the mark appears, it’s painful. But it’s understood what it means, and others understand. Some get the mark as soon as they are born, and those who are that young do not understand the pain. It gets explained to them when they are older, that someone out there matches them. The outline of the mark gets more defined, more detailed the closer they are to their match; but it is possible to go an entire life and never having more than a simple light outline.

For most of his life, Cullen Rutherford’s mark has been a light outline, to the point that if he wasn’t looking for it, if he hadn’t been aware of the pain when it first came out, he wouldn’t know he had one. It had formed when he first left Kirkwall, when he first met up with Cassandra to join in their new path. The Inquisition. It seemed like a good distraction, a good way to prove his worth once more. 

It was on the road to Haven that he felt it form, a hiss escaping his mouth as he felt an outline burning into his skin above his heart. Cassandra had turned to him, eyes of worry, scared he had been hurt. But it was the look in his eyes that let her know that no, he hadn’t been attacked by someone they did not see on the road. When they camped for the night, he removed his armor to peel back the top of his shirt, to see the outline. 

Pink flesh, proof of a new wound, and in the dark of the night with only the flame to provide light, he lightly traced over it. It wasn’t painful, but he caught himself staring at it, a mark directly over his heart. 

“You know what that is, yes?” Cassandra asked him, sitting next to him on the fire, watching him carefully. “Did you not have one before?” 

“No,” He sighs, feeling as though he would choke on the words, fearing that he might instead choke on the implication of what it means. 

“Never?” Her voice is soft, and she looks at him with curiosity. “Do you mind if I..” She starts, but hesitates. He nods. 

Cassandra moves off where she was sitting on the grass, cleaning her sword and moves to sit next to Cullen on the fallen log where he had taken residence. Carefully, she moves the neckline of his shirt away from the mark as she looks at it. “It’s simple, but can be beautiful,” She said, a hint of sweet romanticism in her voice. “It looks like a bird? But I cannot tell what type. It will fill in.” She says the last part with a smile, with confidence. “I’m happy you finally have a tether.” 

It takes her words for him to realize that it _is_ a bird, but she’s right. It’s just an outline. There’s no showing what it is, what it could be. Just a creature with wings. 

Cassandra backs away, putting her hands in her lap, and Cullen fixes the front of his shirt. “I never thought one would actually appear,” he says softly, and he looks at his friend -- is she a friend? -- and she offers understanding. “Do you have one?” 

Her features change immediately and she huffs, “Yes.” Cullen finds himself laughing as she speaks, because he doesn’t expect her reaction. Perhaps she is one that doesn’t like the idea of being tied to another. “I do not like to talk about it.” The scowl on her face causes Cullen to raise an eyebrow, he wants to ask her why and it shows on his face. She sees this, and gets flustered, “I do not like the implication of who it may connect me to.”

“Cassandra, you do not have to show me if you do not want to.” 

There is a silence between them that only the crackling of the fire broke. But then--

“ _Ugh_ ,” but there is no heat to it, as she shifts and turns away from Cullen, slipping her arm out of her tunic, but taking care to make sure she’s still modest. He turned away as she did this, and it was her voice that made him turn back. “Here.” 

Her mark was far larger than his, far more detailed than he had seen. A mark across her left bicep, intricate details of a book, no, _books_ , stacked on top of each other, each one different than the last, more detailed. The outlines were clear, sharp, and defined. On top of the stack rest a mug, and a quill pen. “Ah,” Cullen stated, finding himself thrown by the details compared to his. His gaze at it seemed to make Cassandra uncomfortable, and she turned and pulled her arm back in, covering the mark once more. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“It’s a nuisance.”

“You do love reading, perhaps that is what it means?” 

“You know that is not what it means, my tether is not to _books_ , Cullen.” 

They change the subject quickly then, both of them getting uncomfortable with the topic. In the morning, they will reach Haven. In the morning, the work will begin. In the morning, the sudden pain of the mark will fade.

***

The pain of the mark fades, but the sky rips open months later and there isn’t anything else to focus on but that. Closing the breach, repairing the sky, trying to find some semblance of normal. Which, Cullen was quite sure that there was nothing normal in his life anymore. Had there ever really been normal? Did he know what normal _was?_

The Herald of Andraste, she changed things. Gave them a fighting chance, and was powerful in her own right. An elven mage, a spitfire, and Cullen thought she also was a bit of an _instigator_ as well. He could appreciate what she was doing, how she was helping, how she was gathering allies. He could respect that. But she enjoyed getting under his skin. She enjoyed seeing how she could twist the knife on him, so to speak. 

“With all due respect, the Templars--” he had started, certain that he would be heard, but Ashara had quickly interrupted.

“Will not be who I will go to for help. The mages--”

“Are incapable of combat like this!” But the moment he had said it, the words out of his mouth, the glare he had been given from Ashara, from Leliana and Josephine was almost enough to set him on fire. He met Ashara’s gaze and held it. A scowl on his face, only to match the one of hers, but something in how she looks at him catches him off guard, and he feels a heat to his face. “I apologize, Herald, I--”

“It’s fine, Commander,” She sighs. She pushes strands of her white hair away from her face and behind her ear. Her eyes are a bright blue, almost unnaturally so - not something he had noticed before, so why was he noticing now? “I understand, but please...if you are all to put me in a position of choosing, then please respect my choice.” 

She doesn’t wait for a reply, she just nods and leaves the room. To gather her party, to move out to Redcliffe to make the arrangements needed. When the door shuts behind her, the women of the room turn and glare at him. 

“Was that really necessary, Cullen?” Leliana asks, but there is no cut to her words. In fact there seems to be a hint of _amusement_. 

“You really must do better at getting along with her,” Josephine chimes in, “She’s not--”

“I need to continue the soldiers training if we are to get anything done. I shall see you both later,” Cullen quickly cuts in, standing tall, his hand resting on his sword as he makes his way out of the room, but well aware that both Leliana and Josephine are about to gossip about him the second the door closes. He does not care to stick around. 

Outside, the sound of metal hitting metal, the grunts and yells of the soldiers training, running drills. He’s pleased at how they are doing in such little time. The more that the Herald goes out, the more people come back. Looking for a place in the Inquisition, looking for a way to help. It amazes him the amount of reach the Herald has, but it doesn’t surprise him. She seems to get along with everyone, though for some reason it is him that she has the most difficulty with. He wishes he understood why. He wishes he understood why it bothered him so. 

He’s lost in thought, watching the drills, his hands always on his sword, on guard and unaware of how much time has passed when he finds himself under attack by a simple word. 

“Commander?” 

He looks towards the voice and sees her standing in front of him, her armor on, her staff on her back. Behind her he sees Dorian, Solas, Bull, and Varric waiting for her. Having a small conversation about something. Or perhaps another of Varric’s stories -- Bull’s voice is booming and loud as he laughs, while Solas seems to offer nothing but an amused smirk. They’re heading out now. To recruit the mages. 

“Commander, I wanted to apologize.” 

Her words once more take him out of his thinking and he looks at her with eyes wide, “Apologize? For what?” 

“For going against your advice. I know you feel strongly about this, about mages.” 

Her voice seems so small then, and she seems to almost be ashamed of it. Of mages. Of who she is, and a wave of shame falls over him. “You need not apologize, Herald, I simply...was not thinking. I am the one who should apologize. I’m sorry. I trust you to make the right choice.” And he means it, which feels strange, because this is the first civil conversation that they have had. He doesn’t correct her on if he has anything against mages. He doesn’t feel it’s right to. Even if it is to correct a perception she had gotten wrong; a former Templar like him, it makes sense that she would assume he was against who she was as a being. Something tells him it’s safer this way. Though he doesn’t know what that something is.

She realizes this is the first truly civil conversation between them, it’s clear, because she looks surprised. But she stands a little taller, and smiles a little softer. Something clenches in his heart that he chooses to ignore. The Herald pushes a fallen piece of hair behind her ears once more, and nods. “We’re heading to Redcliffe now. I’ll send word when we have arrived.”

“Of course, Herald,” He nods, forcing himself to stand straighter, if it were possible, and offers a small smile of his own. She accepts it and turns to head off with the group to the stables, to mount up and head out. Cullen returns his look to his recruits, the drills continuing.

A recruit calls out for him, to request him to show how to do a maneuver. With a smile, he approaches to demonstrate the move, and misses the Herald and her party leaving Haven. It is good he does. It is a good distraction.

***

In the middle of the night, he wakes up in a cold sweat. The feeling as if there is a fever working through him, something his body is trying to fight. He knows, of course. His body has been fighting the lyrium since he stopped taking it. Since he made the decision to free himself of his past, but it doesn’t make his past easier to part with.

He doesn’t require much to sleep, a small bedroll suits him fine despite the protests from Josephine that the Commander of the Inquisition should have better sleeping quarters. He offers the better quarters to the recruits, to those who need it. He has survived on less. That doesn’t mean that it’s not rough on his back, and the older he gets he has to remind himself that he’s not capable of this.

Of lying on the floor, that is. He’s not sure if he means anything else, and if he does, he doesn’t dwell on it.

In his cabin, there is a small table and a chair. A candle, lit for light, but the open window brings in the moon and the light far better than the candle does. He goes to the chair, sitting down, staring out the window at the moon. He does this most nights, when sleep is only for a few hours and he needs to pass the time. Sometimes he writes letters. Sometimes he goes for a midnight run.

Tonight, he stretches his arms out over his head, but when he does, there is a sharp pain. He breathes sharply through his teeth, as he looks down to his bare chest, to where the pain is.

His tether. His mark. It’s changed.

He gets up out of the chair, and grabs the candle, bringing it to his chest of personal belongings. There isn’t much, but as he opens it, he searches for something specific. A small hand mirror. Mia had given it to him, told him to use it to _take care of how things look_ but he never wanted to do much about vanity.

In the light of the candle, he can see the changes. He uses the mirror to stare at the mark, that is no longer light in color. It’s become darker, more defined. Outlines of details on the face of the bird – and it is very much a bird – are etched into his skin, and the more he looks, the more he swears the details come out.

The pain is noticeable. More than he wants to admit to. More than he wants to feel. Cullen’s eyes close, he breathes deep, trying to get past the pain. But then, in a moment, it’s gone. The defined face of the bird remains, but there is not much detail in the rest of the mark.

As if to tell him he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure if he disagreed. But sleep wouldn’t happen again tonight, and he slipped a shirt on to travel down to the healer, to find a salve to help the pain. To heal the wound.

It’s quiet as walks through Haven. Many are sleeping, and so he walks quietly not to wake those who wish to rest. The tavern is still lively and laugher can be heard – but he keeps going.

Adan is surprisingly awake when Cullen enters.

“Ah,” The man says, looking up from his work station, and nods. “Commander, to what do I owe this visit? It’s late.”

Cullen chuckles awkwardly, and rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve come to see if you’ve got a healing salve? One for surface wounds, to help it heal.”

The healer looks over the Commander with a raised eyebrow. “Aye, but what are you needing it for?”

“I told you, I—”

“I need to see the wound, I can’t be giving you the wrong thing for it. You understand.” Adan looks to Cullen expectantly, and the Commander sighs heavily.

The collar of his night shirt is pushed to the side, to reveal his tether. Adan looks, and clicks his tongue. “Aye, your tether looks fresh. I can see why you’d want something to help with it.” He turns away from Cullen and Cullen does nothing but stare at the man, wondering how something like a tether mark can be spoken about so nonchalantly. “Wonder why yours isn’t finished though, looks half done, that one.”

He hadn’t been aware that tethers, other tethers, worked differently than his. He thinks back to Cassandra’s, and he wonders if hers was different. Or had started differently. Adan returns with a small container.

“Here. Apply as it grows, Topical, it will help the surface pain, and will help it heal nicely. Take care of it as it grows.”

“As it grows,” Cullen repeats, as if the words seem foreign. To this, Adan chuckles.

“That one isn’t done yet. Your connection isn’t strong yet.”

“Do..” Cullen starts to ask, as he finally takes the container from Adan and holds it in his hands. “Rather, did yours…”

Adan nods. “Yes. It took a few years, but my wife and I were worth the wait,” He pulled up his sleeve showing a beautiful tether design of vines and flowers, running from his shoulder to his wrists. But it was faded. Old. “She died a few years ago, only a matter of time before the tether leaves. You take care of yours, Commander. May it serve you well in your years.”

He turned around to return to his work station, effectively cutting off the conversation, and leaving Cullen a little dumbstruck. He turns and leaves, heading back to his own cabin, the salve discreetly in his hand as if hiding a secret.

***

In the days that pass, the pain is nothing but a dull ache over his heart now, and the tether seems settled. The day to day proceeded, as recruits trained, preparations were made to start to support the potential influx of new people come the outcome of the Herald’s business.

On this day, the horns were sounded. The announcement that the Herald has returned, and the gates were opened. He jogged up the stairs to the chantry, to wait with Josephine and Leliana, and what the Herald brought with her was not a surprise. The large amount of people, the others of the Inquisition, the party that had traveled with her. They did not seem physically hurt but the Herald looked drained of her color, exhausted.

He felt a sharp pain on his chest as he thought of her, but shifted his chest plate. His tether was healing, it would hurt.

Ashara reached the steps, not meeting Cullen or Leliana’s eyes, but looking at Josephine. “We can talk tomorrow. I need…I need rest.” She held out the parchment, a report of what had happened. “For tomorrow,” and left once the papers were taken out of her hand by Josephine. Cullen watched her retreat, watched until she disappeared into her cabin, and when she was out of view, it was then that he noticed the others were looking at him.

“What?”

“We should read the report,” Leliana stated, without giving an indication as to why she had been looking at Cullen with a note of fascination and curiosity.

“Why read it, when you can hear it?” Came a voice, and bounding up the stairs was the Tevinter mage, Dorian, with a bit of a grim look on his face. “You won’t hear it from her, so you might as well hear it from the only other true witness to it. And I don’t see her wanting to talk about it for some time.”

***

Dorian was right, of course, as to why the Herald wouldn’t want to speak of what happened. The type of magic that happened there, to throw them into the future, was something that Cullen couldn’t believe had happened – it wasn’t a future he ever wanted to see. It wasn’t a future he ever wanted to live; though from what he was gathering, he hadn’t lived long in that future, none of them really had.

It didn’t make the night any easier as they move forward on the preparations to close the Breach. It didn’t make the weight on his shoulders any lighter, though he imagined that, perhaps the weight on _her_ shoulders was a bit worse. Perhaps more than a bit.

Sleep isn’t coming, and he’s tired of trying to fight it, so once more he leaves his cabin. He leaves his sword in his cabin, but makes it only a few steps out before he considers doubling back and getting it. But the guards are alert, they’re watching over Haven. The shift had just changed, and these men and women are well rested. So he relaxes his thoughts, and heads for the Chantry, to review their moves.

He’s without his armor, but that doesn’t make him walk any lighter, heading into the dimly lit building and going straight towards the ‘war table’. Work keeps him busy, the Inquisition keeps him honest. But when he opens the door to the room, he’s surprised to see who is already in there.

The Herald, with her white blonde hair down around her shoulder, is looking over the war table. She’s where Cullen himself usually stands, and she’s picking up one of the pieces on the side of the table – not one already placed on the board. It’s a little lion, one of his own pieces, and she’s looking at it with curiosity. As if she’s trying to memorize what she’s looking at, and he can’t quite figure out _why_. She looks peaceful in this light, almost as if she didn’t have a care. But the look on her face gives all that away.

Her features pull from curiosity to _concern_. He wants to ask her what is wrong, and he steps forward.

Ashara immediately looks up to see him standing in front of her, and her eyes go wide as she immediately puts the piece down on the table, and there seems to be a light color to her cheeks. As if she was _blushing_ but Cullen doesn’t see the reason for that in the slightest.

“I...I’m sorry I didn’t know anyone would be here this late,” He offers as a means of explanation, but leaves out that he had been watching her for a few moments before announcing his presence.

She runs her hand through her hair, and shakes it out and there is a tightness in his chest as he watches her do it. Like it seems almost too personal, so he looks away. “Did you pick these out?” She asks, drawing his attention back to her. She picks up the little lion figurehead and holds it out again, “The details are simply amazing. I never really looked at them before.” Setting the figure back down on the side, she looked to Cullen and smiled, and he returned the gesture, if only for a moment.

He’s cautious at first, aware that this is yet another conversation where they are not at each other’s throats, and approaches the table. He walks over to stand next to her, because it feels strange to be on the other side of the table.

“No, Josephine had them picked out, but I must admit I rather like them.” The ambassador always had a way of bringing out the details in people. Just as Leliana had a way of getting people’s secrets; though sometimes in more questionable ways. It was rather unnerving, at times, if he was honest. But he broke from his thoughts, looking away from the little piece in the Herald’s hand and looking at her. “Are you unwell? It’s rather late.” His hand moves to his neck, and he rubs it as if he’s either exhausted or nervous, but he’s not sure what the difference is right now, and it bothers him.

She shrugs, watching Cullen carefully, studying him, weighing her words. There’s something going on behind her eyes, but he can’t tell what it is.

“I wasn’t sleeping well. I decided to take a walk around the grounds, and I ended up here.” She moved away from him then, her arm brushing against his as she moved past him, and the briefest touch caused a feeling in his stomach that he couldn’t place. “I end up here most nights, if I’m being honest.”

“Most nights?” He couldn’t help but reply to her, following her as she walked out of the room, out into the halls of the Chantry, his original plan forgotten. 

“Most nights. I don’t sleep very well, but that’s usually been the case with me. I could do a sleep spell, but I’d rather not. But...what are you doing awake? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

She stops right in front of the main door to head outside, opening it and letting the moonlight in. There is a moment where she seems to contemplate his company, and he steps in.

“I could accompany you, if you’d like.”

“You don’t know where I’m going.”

“Not back to your cabin?”

“No, I was going to go to the lake nearby.” She pauses before adding, “Do you want to join me?”

Maybe he shouldn’t. Would it be unprofessional, to want to continue this conversation outside of the Chantry walls? To sit by a lake, and perhaps have a moment of peace? His curiosity is getting the better of him, he can tell. He can also tell he’s taking too long to respond to her, because Ashara is looking at him with her hand on her hip, and a smirk on her lips, and he fights the urge to declare he’d suddenly follow her everywhere.

What was happening to him?

“I’d like that,” He finally replies, as he gives a small smile back to her, and gestures for her to lead the way. She’s the Herald, after all, she’s more than capable.

As they walk out into the cool air, he’s thankful for the temperature, as suddenly it feels like every part of him is on fire.

Especially his tether.


	2. Chapter 2

When she was younger, she was given a mark. It’s small, and it’s behind her ears. Born with it, but immediately cast aside for it. Her clan considered her a warning: the mark of a wolf behind her neck. Was she marked for the Dread Wolf? She was a curse. She _is_ a curse.

It had not been painful when she gained the mark, but it was what happened because of the mark that hurt her the most. Cast out at a very young age, forced to live on her own, or find shelter where she could. No vallaslin ever given to her, because no one would dare touch her.

She had taken in by different clans, hiding her mark with her hair always down, but she was always found out by a Keeper. Always cast out. By the time she turned 18, when others would get their vallaslin, when they would come of age, she fled. It hadn’t mattered that Clan Lavellan had seemed to take kindly to her, that they _may_ have accepted her. It wasn’t a chance she could take. It had always ended the same.

And on the eve of her 18th birthday, she took shelter in a cave. She had carefully placed her wards, and she had silently wished herself another year of passing, and set up her bedroll. She went to sleep, to enter the fade, to dream. At least there, she was not feared.

She is alone in her dreams, resting in a large tree, ten feet off the ground. Her legs swing beneath her as she rests against the large trunk of the old tree, the old branches sturdy and keeping her safe. The leaves sway in the wind, and the moonlight and starlight mix beautifully here. It’s a combination of different memories, where she feels safe. Those moments are rare.

Visits are rare. There is a spirit here or there that come to see her, and Compassion used to visit her regularly until one day they did not. It is a sign, she tells herself, that not even the spirit of Compassion would want to be to someone who seems to be tethered to the Dread Wolf.

Tonight, on the eve of her birthday, she receives a visitor.

The air around her shifts in a way she doesn’t expect, and she opens her eyes. No longer resting peacefully in the fade, she is on alert. Her wards might have worn down, someone might have gotten past her defenses.

They have. Just not where she thinks. Not in the waking world, but here.

She does not manifest anything to her for protection, she doesn’t have that power.

The footsteps are heavy. The sound echoes in her ears, but she forces herself to face the sound. If she is to come to harm, she will face her attacker.

She comes face to face with bright red eyes. Dark black fur, completely colorless. A large and intimidating wolf.

“Do you know who I am, da'lan?” His voice is rough, and deep. It echoes deeply through her, and it should scare her.

It scares her more that it doesn’t.

“Yes.”

“You are not afraid.” It is a statement, not a question.

“No. I have lived my life being shunned because of my mark, of _you_ , Fen’Harel, I do not fear you.”

He growls, angrily. “Mark? I do not demand _marks_.”

Ashara pulls her hair back, away from her ear. She tilts her head, and shows him. She doesn’t need to see it to know it’s getting more detailed. She’s in direct connection with him now.

He growls, leaning forward, his large eyes looking her over, taking in the mark. “A tether.” He says, and she finds herself surprised. The wolf sniffs the air.

“Wake up.” He says, and Ashara does not have a chance to react.

She wakes in her bedroll, her heart pounding. If he did not have her scent before, he does now. Still, she packs her things and travels out of the cave.

***

He visits her in the fade, when she’s out under the stars. It is not constant, he does not always show. But he comes for conversation, to understand who she is. Why she would be given this tether, a mark that not even magic can fake. The conversations were simple, at first. Asking who her mother was. Why she did not know her father. Why she wasn’t with a clan. Why she didn’t have a vallaslin.

She answers them all, one by one, patiently. She is able to ask her own questions, but he replies in riddles. He is not straight forward with her. She never expects him to be.

Yet, as the year went on, she found herself eager to dream, to meet with him. For guidance. Their visits gave her the perception that someone, even if he was an Elven God, cared for her. Looked out for her. Perhaps it was wish fulfillment. Despite what every Keeper had warned, had taught, she did not fear him. Not like she was supposed to.

One night, things shift. The air is different, though she still knows he is coming to see her. She is a year older now, 19, and is making her way towards a neighboring city. Looking for work, looking for anything she can. She’s tired of stealing.

“I can help you,” He says, his voice deep but not as loud, and while she hears him she does not see him.

“How?” It doesn’t matter where she looks, she cannot see him. She cannot find him.

Until, she is tapped on the shoulder.

There is a hooded man standing in front of her, an intricate mask of a wolf guarding any identifying features, and if there wasn’t a mask, Ashara knows he’s smart enough to make sure she never sees his face. “I will train you.”

“Train me? Fen’Harel, with respect, I do not understand how—”

“You have strength in you that you have not tapped into. Your magic, it is strong, but needs work. Your fighting is…subpar, lethal'lan. This will not do if you are to help me.”

“Help _you_?”

Though she does not see his face, she know he is grinning wickedly. The air shifts, the leaves sway, and she feels his magic swirling around her, pulling hers out. “You will see in time. But, do you agree?”

“Do I have a choice?”

His laughter is deep, and stuns the wind to silence. He steps forward, and offers his hand. “You will always have a choice.”

She stares at him, considering her options. She hesitates, but soon takes his hand.

She can tell he’s still grinning.

***

The mark behind her ear remains small. The tether grows more detailed though, and the design curls down her neck slightly. The first spell he teaches her is how to _hide_ the tether, or glamor it. So she is not caught off guard again, so she is not judged. She blends in easier now, in with the other city elves of Kirkwall, but she only stays two years before she moves on. The city life is bustling, and she gathers the information that she needs to, but he warns her that something is coming.

She leaves the city before she can get too attached, saying goodbye to the small amount of friends that she _does_ make, and takes up with a band of mercenaries. Life is a little easier with them, though she is on the road on her own once more by the time of her 25th year.

He gives her directions to where she should go for shelter, where she will connect with others that work for their cause. The fortress is barren at first, with only her taking shelter. Others come and go, _agents_ as he calls them, spies and mercenaries, working for him. When they outlive their usefulness, they die. Not at her hands, always at their own, always at his insistence.

It troubles her, that she seems tethered to his destruction, to his cause. But this world has never been kind to her, and he has led her to be stronger. Down a path of power. But power corrupts, as she reminds him one night in the fade, when he is in his wolf form.

It is easier to talk to him in this way, than the Elven man behind the mask. He finds this amusing, but agrees to it. “You are my best agent,” he tells her when she requests it, “I can give you what you ask.”

When they train, he takes the Elven form. “It is easier,” he says, “to teach you to fight on the same level.” She does not ask to take him on as a God. She doesn’t consider herself that foolish.

He tells her stories, when he is in his wolf form. She sits tall in the tree, high off the ground, and he sits next to her, his face at level with her in the tree. She pats his fur as he tells her about their home, as he tells her the stories of the other Elven Gods – but when she calls then Gods, he bristles but does not correct her. He tells her where the myths of him have gone wrong. He tells her what he hopes to get back and give to the People.

It sounds beautiful. And it gives her hope. She had never experienced anything in all of Thedas that would give her hope. He gives her hope.

She becomes known amongst those who serve Fen’Harel as his voice. She speaks for him, she gives his commands. There are few who fight against this, fight against her, but he puts a stop to it. When one implies that she is _sleeping_ with him, in a rather vulgar way, it affects him more than she expects when she tells him.

He growls in the old language, but she does not understand. For the language that she does know, and that he does teach her, there are words she does not know. When he speaks, even if she does not understand, Ashara feels it. He is protective of her in the way that she never had. Though she calms him down in the fade, when she wakes up the next morning, the agent who has insulted her is gone.

No one dares to confront her after that.

***

She is in her 30th year now, and is working alone. Her tether has long grown from behind her ear and curves around the base of her neck, an intricate pattern of wolf and bird. Black against blue, mixing together, the eyes of the sky and the strength on the ground. He comments on this on the eve of her birthday, taking his elven form.

She assumes they are to train tonight, but he shakes his head. “Not tonight,” He says sweetly, as sweetly as he has allowed himself, and instead of joining her in her tree, he asks her to join him by the lake. It is not much for her to appear at his side. “Tonight I have a request of you.”

Another assignment, she assumes. Gathering of more information. Another location. He laughs, as if he can read her thoughts. The silver of the mask shines in the moonlight, and for a small moment, it blinds her. She understands why, when she feels his lips near her ear as he whispers his instructions. His plan.

It is what they had been building towards, but she doesn’t want to do it.

She doesn’t want to go.

“What will this help?” She stands up and backs away from him angerly, and she can feel her tether on her neck painfully react to her emotions. “Erasing my memories, of who you are, of what I have learned, what _good_ will that do? I cannot serve you if I do not remember you!” It is the first time she has said that word, and he seems affected by it. If emotions can be seen behind a mask covering his entire face. When he reaches for her, she slaps his hand away.

His reaction is to laugh. But it is not a light laugh, it is a deep one. It is an angry one. “You cannot serve me well if you know everything,” but his words fall on deaf ears. “You need to be impartial.”

“ _How can I do that_?” Her screams are cutting through the wind, through the heavy weight of the fade, and the peaceful place she has conjured is starting to get distorted. A show of her power now, of what she has become from learning from him. His form shifts then, back to the wolf, back to how she was once comfortable with him.

“I will not explain myself,” he says cryptically, as he towers over her in a show of power. She stares up at him, fire in her eyes as an act of defiance.

But she already knows what will happen. She knows that she will be a part of this, because they are closer to helping the People than ever before. She knows that she will agree, before she forgets everything. It hits her then, and it hits her hard.

The forest returns, and she catches herself as she sinks to the ground, finally sitting once more by the lake. The wolf looks at her curiously, his head tilting to the side, all eyes blinking, watching.

“I will forget you,” She says, and chokes on the words. She feels a heat against her eyes, and looks away from him before she cries.

The air changes around them and he is by her side, but not as the wolf. Not as the hooded figure. As something else. “Ashara,” He says softly, a hand on her shoulder.

She lifts her head, to see the man next to her. Plain robes and clothes. Bald head. Bright eyes, but they have regret behind them. He is showing her who he is. He is showing her who he is, because he knows she will forget. “I am sorry,” He tells her.

“Will you still guide me when I am lost?”

“I will try.”

“I won’t know it’s you.”

“No, you won’t.”

‘Will I forget everything?”

“Not everything. Small memories you will keep. Ones that give you comfort.”

Her hand moves to the back of her ear, her fingers lightly gracing her tether to him. He pushes a sleeve back on his left arm and shows her what she never thought he had. A delicate and intricate bluebird, at the base of his wrist, with the shadow of a wolf behind it. She reaches out to touch it, and he lets her. She smiles sadly, as she takes her hand back. “It will fade, as yours will. It will be…as it was before I came to you.”

“I will miss you,” She says, as he reaches into his pocket and takes out a necklace. A wolf jaw, on a simple black string.

He takes her hand in his, and places the jaw in her hand, “And I you.” Then he presses the sharp points of the jaw deep into her hand, and she screams out in pain.

***

Ashara’s eyes flew open and she shot up from her bedroll. Sharp pain behind her ear and in her hand seemed to be the reason she awoke, though she could not remember anything from the night before. Her time in the fade had been uneventful, so why was she in physical pain?

Hand stuck in a fist, she looked down to see that it was bleeding. Uncurling her fingers, one by one, to reveal a mark in her left hand, directly in the middle. A wound almost in the shape of a badly drawn star. She looks at the wound as if she has never bled before. But she has. Countless times in her travels with the mercenary group, countless times as she fought in the streets of Kirkwall for her livelihood – or in the occasional bar brawl.

She has to stop the bleeding, and tears fabric off her old tunic she wears, hastily wrapping it around her hand. She ties it tight as she goes about gathering her things, covering her tracks, removing all chances of her being found. The pain on the back of her ear tells her the Dread Wolf still has her scent, after all these years. She cannot risk the chance of being found by him.

The cave that has provided shelter for the week has served its purpose, and she sets fire to the things she does not need with a spell, removing evidence she was there, the wind caring away the ashes. Her small bag over her shoulder, she takes off, to sneak among those who march towards the Conclave. She’s been hired by someone to find out information in the gathering, and she will not fail. Her life depends on it.

Pain in her hand subsiding, she hides behind a tree outside the Conclave and unwraps her hand to find there is no bleeding. All that is left is a star-shaped scar, as if it has been there all along. She flexes her hand over and over, and it feels fine, it feels the same as it always had.

But soon something will replace it. Something will be there. It will cut her open and bleed out magic and it will hurt at times but she won’t let them know. She will lie.

It will be as natural as breathing.

She had learned from the best, even if she could not remember.

***

She hates the title of Herald. She is not Andrastian, and yet she is to carry the weight of their faith on her back? It seems absurd, but she understands why they are putting their faith in her. The glow of the anchor tells her all that she needs to know. She is a tool, a means to an end.

It is how she is expecting to be treated, but when she is not, it surprises her. When they look to her to make decisions, it shocks her. The closest to a City Elf as one could be, cursed with a tether to a rebel god she was told to fear, and being feared because of it. But Josephine is sweet to her, and offers her a place to sit when she needs to hide for a while. Varric tells her stories of Kirkwall, and is happy to see her again, because “I can never forget eyes like that and a voice like yours, bluebird.” It is nice to have friends, it is nice to have someone she has a connection to, and she still teases the dwarf for remembering who she is. Not that she could forget him, she teases. He enjoys her flattery, but still won’t write a book for her.

She finds herself warming up to others in the Inquisition, and meeting more in her travels makes her feel like she is not alone. Iron Bull is unashamed of who he is, and isn’t afraid to spar with her when most seem to be. Dorian brightens her day, and is quickly becoming a close friend. And Solas, who helped her use her anchor in the first place to close a rift, has offered to help teach her more about the magic burning brightly through her skin, and offer console if she needs it. She has started to grow comfortable with those in the Inquisition – especially since it seems that she is to stay until the job is done and the sky is healed. 

But she does not understand her spymaster, not yet. And she does not understand the Commander, for all that he is. They are oil and water, they do not blend together. They do not mix, no matter how many times they try to shake sense into the other. They are purely professional and they are all titles and broad gestures that do not stand for anything.

But there is something in his eyes when he looks at her, that burns her. Warms her inside from out, but threatens to swallow her whole if she does not consider it carefully.

It is one day after an argument with him – he does not approve of mages, he has made that perfectly clear, but going to Redcliffe is _her_ choice - that she feels a burning pain in her right forearm. She blows through the Chantry and heads straight for the healer. Something is wrong. Perhaps the anchor’s magic is spreading. Something feels _off._

Solas catches her outside before she enters to see Adan, and sees her in pain. She refuses to give him her arm, but he takes it anyway, calling her stubborn. “If this is the anchor spreading, we need to know,” He says, “And no healer can help with this magic.”

He’s right, of course. She knows that. “Fine,” She hisses through the pain, following him into his cabin.

“Sit,” he instructs, as he gestures to one chair and he takes the seat next to it. He does not wait for her to roll her sleeve back, and she is shocked at what she sees. If Solas is surprised, he does not show it, and he does not say it.

“It’s…” Her eyes are staring at her forearm, the outline of an animal forming before her eyes. It is unmistakable to what it is.

“A tether,” Solas’ voice is quiet, almost tender for a brief moment that Ashara wonders if he is who she is connected to. Her eyes raise to meet his, and he shakes his head, “No, this is not me. I do not have one, mine has long since faded.”

His hands move from her arm, and she pulls her arm back to rest on her lap. The tether mark is still forming, but it outlines a large cat, or a lion. It is hard to be certain. There is a silence between them both as they stare at it, and when it seems to have stopped for the moment, Solas casts a cooling spell over it to bring the heat down.

“I didn’t know someone could have two.” Her voice is quiet, as she waits for the spell to stop and she pulls her sleeve back over it.

“Two?”

She does not look at him, for fear of his judgement. Tethers have been nothing but pain for her, and she finds herself suddenly worried to what this means. “I have…another one. Behind my ear.” Her hand goes to cover the back of her ear, despite her hair covering it, despite the glamor she knows she’s placed over it.

“What is it of?” He asks, and Ashara immediately stands up. She will not speak of this. She does not wish to tell him.

“Thank you. For…your help. We’ll be leaving for Redcliffe soon, I’d like you to come. Meet by the stables in an hour.” Slipping easily into the role of Herald and disappearing out of Solas’ cabin, leaving him looking at her curiously. Or, she assumes he does, as she does not look behind her when she leaves.

***

Redcliffe does not go as she had planned. And the memories of what happens haunts her as they head back to Haven. A future she does not want. A future she needs to prevent.

She is quiet on the ride home, and when they camp for the night, she goes into her tent without a word. During the day, Varric tells wild stories, and tells the others how he had met Ashara, though each time he tells the story something changes. It’s to get her to laugh, to get her to smile, and sometimes he does manage to do that. But she’s ignoring the throbbing pain in her forearm, and she’s ignoring the throbbing pain behind her ear. She needs rest. She needs a bed.

Their return to Haven is announced, and she dreads giving the report. She cannot look them in the eyes. She cannot tell Leliana how she sacrificed herself. She cannot tell Cullen of the stories of how he had been lost to lyrium madness.

She looks only Josephine in the eyes when she hands over the report. “We can talk tomorrow. I need...I need rest.” The parchment is handed over to the Ambassador, but Ashara cannot hold her look for long. “For tomorrow.” There is no room for objections, and she does not look the others in the eye. Yet, she feels like she’s being watched until she gets safely into her cabin and shuts the door behind her.

Her tunic is quickly peeled off as she looks to her forearm, the details starting to form more. It is a lion, and its mane is large.

There is a tight feeling in her chest, when she comes to the small realization of what it reminds her of.

***

Sleep didn’t come, no matter how hard she tried. Fighting it wouldn’t make it better, and with her mind racing, there was no point. Her staff stayed by the door as she dressed, stepping out into the snow and cold, but finding it didn’t bother her. It helped to cool the burning feeling that only started to subside.

But this wasn’t her first night stroll. She took note of those who were still up, telling stories by the fire. She took note of those who were still in the tavern, drinking their nights away. She took note of those who were sleeping, pretending as if the sky did not have a giant hole in it, looking peaceful as could be. 

In nights like this, she’d go to the war table. 

She didn’t have authority at this table, and she knew it. She felt it. Because of the mark on her hand, she was given some sort of power. To decide where to go, to lead the hunt, to close the rifts, to decide who they should side with. Back from Redcliffe, travelling through time and back, perhaps she wasn’t too keen closing her eyes. Or, it was something else.

To get confirmation of what she suspected.

She finally made it inside, the candles still lit, but hardly anyone around. And she slowly walked to the war room, opening the door to find it empty -- _exactly_ as she had expected. The little wooden pieces representative of the powers that the Inquisition’s Spymaster, Ambassador, and Commander were resting on the table itself, or around the map. A vision of them working together and sometimes working apart to spread the word. To get help. 

Approaching the table, she gently ran her fingers around the edge of it, walking over to where the three advisors usually stood, and she stopped in the middle. The Commander’s spot. It seemed strange, to see the map from this side of the table. To be judging instead of being judged.

Her eyes were drawn to the little carved lion, the piece of the Inquisition Forces. The Commander. Cullen. Holding it in her hand, it felt so heavy. Finely carved details, as if magic had taken a real lion and simply shrunk it down to size. While her forearm did not burn, she could recognize the details. How it matched. How the details that were forming on her arm were similar to the details here.

This little piece seemed to hold the weight of her life in its shape. Yet another thing that was guiding how she should live her life. Her tether behind her ear. The anchor in her palm. The tether on her arm. It was overwhelming, and terrifying.

But before she could lift her sleeve, to compare the outline, she heard a sound. And looking up, she saw him. The Commander, standing in front of her, in the dead of night.

There was a tight feeling in her chest she ignored. She had to. She could not let curiosity get to her.

***

“Do you want to join me?”

Should she have not asked him that? The question leaving her lips caused a heat in her chest, and a feeling in her stomach she couldn’t explain. Would he want to be seen with her, someone he hardly ever got along with? Was she pushing this? Was curiosity really that important to follow through on? But she comes to the conclusion that her question was a good one before he does, and looks at him with her hand on her hip and a smirk on her lips.

“I’d like that.” But when he replies, it’s to mirror the smirk of her own, and it causes her breath to get caught in her throat. It causes a blush to her cheeks that she is quick to try to hide, turning away from him in the dark of the night.

As they walk out into the cool air, she’s thankful for the temperature, as suddenly it feels like every part of her is on fire.

Especially her new tether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now on, I'll be updating once a week! I have many chapters already written, so I hope you join me on this little ride! Enjoy :) I'll be adding a little more information on Tethers and what they mean as we progress in the story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of having this story outlined to (at least) 26 chapters, here's Chapter 3 early! ;)

He walks with her in silence, as they leave the Chantry behind them. He is without his armor, without his sword, and without protection. He doesn’t know, doesn’t _think_ that he will need protection, but he also doesn’t know what he’d need protection from. An attack, of course, is the natural thought. But even Commanders need a break, and even the Herald needs a rest, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling so vulnerable. In the cold air, the cold air he _doesn’t really feel_ because for some reason every single piece of him feels like he’s on fire.

Walking beside the Herald – no, _Ashara_ – he is ignoring the feeling he has. The dark night covers the color in his cheeks, and he’s thankful for it, it won’t make things awkward between the two of them.

Though, there isn’t anything to be awkward for. Right?

Of course not. Other than the sudden feeling of his heart going way too fast, feeling like he was on fire, and finding that he was thinking about how beautiful she looked in the moonlight, absolutely _nothing_ to feel awkward for.

Oh, maker’s breath.

“Would you like to sit with me?” Ashara asks, as they reach the lakeside finally, a little bit of a walk outside of Haven’s walls, but still close enough they could make it in time if there was something to happen. But he wasn’t thinking of war, or battle, despite the fact that there were things they needed to prepare for.

“Of course.”

Ashara was already moving to sit down under a large tree, not caring to put down anything before she sat. Cullen wished he had his cloak, if only to put it down so she could rest on it. But that small internal fight would be for another night, as he walked over to sit down next to her, resting underneath the large tree.

There was a good view of the lake from there, nothing obstructing their view. The moonlight danced over the still lake water, and the night sky was clear. They sat in silence and Cullen found himself surprised at how it felt comfortable. This woman, who has done nothing but find a way to get under his skin since she arrived, suddenly felt so…he didn’t quite have the word.

But her voice broke the quiet between them. “You never answered me.”

His eyebrows furrowed for a quick moment, too tired to hide expressions, but too awake to be anywhere but here. His legs were stretched out in front of him, where she was sitting cross leg. Their shoulders were touching, but only just. “Never answered what?” His head turned to look at her, as she pushed her hair over her left shoulder, playing with the ends of it.

“Why you’re awake. Why you can’t sleep.”

“Ah.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Oh, no, I just don’t sleep much. I find I only need a few hours, and continue to work. There are…far more important things to do.” Cullen shrugged, and in that gesture his shoulder brushed more against hers. He watched as her eyes went a little wide at the accidental contact, and she looked away for a moment.

_That’s…interesting._

“Even the Commander of the Inquisition needs rest.” Ashara finally replied, and purposefully nudged his shoulder back. “You look like you could use it. No offense.”

That had pulled an honest laugh out of him, and she seemed pleased with the response. “No offense taken, Herald. Perhaps you’re right.”

“Ashara.” She said quickly, her fingers still playing with the edges of her hair, “Please, call me Ashara. At least right now. Do we really need titles?”

He couldn’t remember when he had ever called her by her first name. Had he _ever_ called her by just her first name? “No, not out here we don’t,” Cullen was quick to agree, perhaps because he liked how her name sounded. “Ashara it is.”

And she seemed to prefer to hear her name, as her shoulders relaxed a bit more, and she stopped fidgeting with her hair. They fell quiet again and he was watching her as she moved her hands to her lap, as she leaned her head back against the tree trunk and closed her eyes. A rare moment of peace for her, and he was here to witness it.

His mark was starting to burn, and he inhaled sharply and not realizing it could draw attention. Her eyes flew open, and looked at him with concern.

“Cullen, are you alright?”

Just hearing his name come from her lips was doing things to him he had not imagined, had not prepared for. He rested his hand over his chest, and nodded. “I’m fine. Old injury acting up,” he lied, but he wasn’t sure if he was convincing.

Her contemplation over his lie was quick, as she shrugged, “Just be careful, I need you in top shape,” Ashara winked, “The Commander shouldn’t be taken down by an old injury.”

“I won’t.”

“Are you sure? What if I poke it?”

“ _What?_ ”

But he couldn’t react fast enough, as Ashara reached over and poked where his hand was, her finger pressing into his hand. He went to say something, but she just ended up laughing and bringing her hand back to her lap.

“It’s nice to catch you off guard. Or make you laugh. I didn’t think you were capable of it, truthfully.”

“Of _laughing_?”

“Yes!” She shifted so her shoulder was now against the tree, and she was facing him. Her legs stayed tucked under her, and she rested her other hand on her hip. He shifted slightly as well, to face her better, but mostly stayed with his legs stretched out. One hand moved to rub the back of his neck, in embarrassment. “You seem like there is always something troubling you, Cullen. It’s nice to see you can have moments where…you’re not a stubborn ass.”

It was said in jest, but he couldn’t help the feeling of embarrassment that had come over him when she said it. A reminder that they didn’t always see eye to eye and that perhaps she –

“I don’t dislike mages,” He said suddenly, though he instantly regretted it as her smile faded. Had he ruined the mood? “I mean I…you know that I am a former Templar. I had certain teachings, I followed a…I did not always agree with it.” Cullen couldn’t look at her, instead he had dropped his hand from his chest, and wrung both his hands together. “I apologize if you think that I…that I may dislike you for something that you are. I do not. At all.”

Ashara inhaled sharply, and cleared her throat. He had caught her off guard. He could tell by her reaction, how her shoulders squared up a bit more, how she seemed almost confused at what he was saying. “I know you don’t dislike me. If you did, I hardly doubt you’d entertain a conversation with me. I know what it is like when I am avoided.”

His eyes rose to meet hers in that moment, “I’m afraid I know that feeling as well. But I apologize for any…stubbornness on my part.”

“Tensions are running high, Cullen. I understand it.” And in a gesture he had not prepared himself for, she reached over and put her hand full over his. “You do not need to apologize, okay?”

Sighing heavily, she took her hand back, as she looked away from Cullen, and looked towards the lake. “Most of my life, I have been an outsider,” She started, and her hands went back up to her hair, playing with the ends over her left shoulder. “I went from clan to clan, and it was only a matter of time before I was cast out. I left clan Lavellan before they had the chance to cast me out. I’ve…been on my own since I was 18.”

“Who would cast you out? _Why_ , if I can ask?” Cullen knew better than to ask more than the basics of questions. Not to push. Not to pry.

She seemed to understand his hesitance in asking her, and she sighed softly, and shook her head. “I have a mark that I was born with.”

“You don’t have any Elvhen markings?” He interrupted, and she shook her head.

“No. I don’t. I left before I was given them. Though, they are to honor our Gods, and I don’t know if I believe in them anymore. Or if I ever did.” Her eyes were on the lake still, and at that statement she seemed a bit lost in thought, but shook herself out of it. “No, I have a tether. And because of the tether, I was cast out.”

She was cast out because of a tether? He fought the urge to touch his own, knowing it was fresh once more, knowing something had happened to it. “Why would they be so cruel for something you cannot control?”

Ashara shifted then, once more sitting cross legged, but fully facing Cullen this time. She edged a little closer to him, as she pushed her hair from her shoulders to be behind her. She turned her head, and pulled her earlobe back, showing a small outline of a wolf. It wasn’t overly detailed, but it was still there. “I put a glamor over it during the day, at night I let it stay. As a reminder.”

“Why would that—”

“In our…beliefs, there were Elven Gods that once walked amongst us. Among them was one named Fen’Harel, the trickster god of rebellion. It’s a very long story and I will not bore you on the long details, but to be marked, to be tethered to Fen’Harel…it’s done nothing but bring me harm.” She let her hair fall back in front of her shoulders, once more covering her mark. “I just am thankful that it is not…a romantic tether.”

“It’s rare to have a tether of that kind, is it not? How can you be sure?”

“It’s the feeling that I have when I think of the connection, when I touch it. It’s more of a familiar, than a romantic, if that makes sense. Somehow, that…scares me more.”

“Your connection scares you?”

Ashara went quiet. For a long time, and Cullen worried that he had mis stepped. That he had—

“Yes.” The word was quiet, as if she had a problem getting it out. Or worse, she worried about admitting it outloud. Cullen hesitated, for the briefest of moments, before he reached out and touched her shoulder. Ashara closed her eyes, as her hand moved to rest over his on her shoulder. It felt like an hour had passed, the quiet comfort of each other, but it had only been minutes.

“Do you...” Ashara asked finally, as she moved her hand, and her eyes opened once more. She looked up to him and looked him over as if she was _searching_ for something. Cullen felt more vulnerable now than he had earlier in the night. How was that possible? “…have one?”

Cullen inhaled sharply, and cleared his throat, but didn’t get a chance to answer before Ashara shook her head, “No, I’m sorry, that was very personal for me to ask.”

“I can answer—”

“Cullen, really, it’s okay. Maybe that’s enough personal talk for one night. Save the conversation for the next time we meet like this.”

 _Next time_. Those two words seemed to heat him up more than he had expected, and he cleared his throat, “Ah, yes, if you would like to speak again, like this..”

“I’d like that.” She said softly, and smiled.

They took a moment to look at the lake before they both stood up. Cullen got up before Ashara had, and he held out a hand for her to take to help herself up. Her hand had fit so nicely into his own, as he closed it around hers, and helped her up, that he found himself again struggling for words. Instead, he let her hand go, as it was proper to do so, and put his hands behind his back.

“Can I escort you back to your cabin, Ashara?”

“Of course, Cullen,” She gave a little bow with that, and laughed, causing him to give the same gesture though with a little more of an exaggerated bow. It got another laugh out of her, and there was a warm feeling that flowed through him, as he looked a little proud for getting that reaction out of her.

As she had before, she lead the way, cutting through the trees and heading back to Haven. They weren’t announced back, as there was no need – the Herald was with the Commander, it was nothing out of the ordinary not at all – and they walked back up the path towards her cabin.

Reaching her cabin, he stood respectfully outside her door, as she went towards it. “Thank you,” she said quietly to him, and he almost hadn’t heard her.

“For what?”

“Easing my mind, and for being a good listener.” Ashara took a step towards him, and he felt her eyes scanning him, looking at his reaction, very similar to how she had looked at the little wooden figures at the war table.

“Of course, it was my pleasure.” She was close to him. And he found himself growing a little nervous, rubbing the back of his neck in a telltale nervous tick. But she was smiling softly, and he smiled back.

“Can I request something from you?” The question came as a surprise, and he didn’t hide his reaction.

“Always.”

“Can we meet at the lake tomorrow night? Same general time?”

So she _was_ serious about meeting up again to talk. The sudden turnaround of how she was towards him was enough for his head to spin, but it was never enough for him to say no. He wouldn’t say no. How could he? “Yes. I think I can agree to that.”

His smile was small, but his eyes looked brighter, and she nodded with the confirmation. “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow, Cullen.”

He bowed to her, as she moved closer to her door, and opened it. “Until tomorrow, Ashara.” He waited for her door to close, for her to disappear inside before he turned and walked back to his own cabin.

***

Sleeping wasn’t something that was on his mind immediately upon returning to his cabin, and for the second time that night he found himself looking at his mark on his chest.

He had been right – it had started to grow again. Outlines of feathers, little intricate details that he could only imagine himself. But it was there.

He was starting to suspect he knew who his mark was claiming he was tethered to. But, she claimed she already had a mark. It was rare – and practically unheard of – for someone to have more than one tether. Perhaps it wasn’t a tether of romantic intent, as he had originally thought it had been.

She had claimed she could tell my touching hers, that she knew what it was. Cullen wondered if…

He moved to his bedroll, discarding his shirt onto the chair nearby, and lay down upon it. He moved his eyes to the ceiling of his cabin, his left hand firm on the floor in a poor attempt to keep himself grounded, while his heart pounded loudly against his chest. His right hand he moved, to gently touch the tether. He closed his eyes.

Touching the tether with intent, changed everything. Immediately he was flooded with the feeling of adoration, and care. Of something that _could_ be love, though he was hardly the expert in the feeling of it. The largest one was the feeling of happiness, something he had never truly been, something he had been allowed himself to experience in the past; he had hardly deserved it.

The feeling of hope, that he _could_ experience happiness, caused his eyes to fly open and he gasped. A sob escaped his throat, and his hand quickly covered his mouth. Heat threatened behind his eyes, and he struggled to contain himself.

He could not touch the tether with intent like that again, to feel the connection. Because now he knew what would happen if he did, and he was worried of feeling addicted to the start of something that might never come to fruition.

He didn’t sleep for the remainder of the night.

***

“You seem distracted, Cullen.”

It was late in the afternoon. Haven was a busy hub of preparations. Solders trained alongside with the mages, and there had been plenty of fights between the two groups – and sometimes in the groups themselves – that Cullen had to spend time breaking up. When he hadn’t been breaking fights up, he had been dealing with the final preparations before they closed the breach.

The Herald was out with Solas, Bull, and Cassandra, gathering last minute supplies, and maybe even getting rid of some nerves before they approached the breach the next day. Cullen could understand the need to get out of your own head, and to work through the nerves. Not that he imagined that Ashara had been nervous – in battle, she seemed focused and always on. Something he admired.

“Hello? Curly?”

Cullen blinked a few times and took in his surroundings. The tavern, getting something to eat, and a tankard of ale in front of him. In front of him was Varric and Dorian on the other side of the table. Cullen chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry, Varric. Long day.”

“I’d say, you have to walk around in all that armor looking like _you_ do, I’d be exhausted too,” Dorian’s teasing came easily, and Cullen was glad that it seemed the man had taken a shine to the rest of the Inquisition.

“Now, Sparkler, I wouldn’t quite say that’s what’s been eating our Commander.” Varric’s voice was one of amusement, and Cullen caught the look Varric gave him.

“We close the breach tomorrow; I assure you that is my only focus.” Cullen shook his head, as he picked up his tankard and drank from the ale.

Taking the drink was a bad call. No sooner than Cullen started to drink, Varric took it as his chance. “Not the long midnight stroll you took with the Herald? You two looked rather cozy…”

Cullen’s eyes immediately went wide, slamming the tankard down on the table and coughed as he choked on the ale. Varric looked like the cat who caught the canary, and Dorian just looked simply _amused_. “Oh, you didn’t tell me _that,_ Varric!” Dorian’s hand slapped down on Varric’s arm, and Cullen glared across the table, as he finally stopped coughing and composed himself once more.

“Absolutely nothing happened with the Herald, Dorian, Varric is just spinning another story.”

“But you admit that you _did_ take a walk with her?” The Tevinter raised an eyebrow, and he leaned forward in anticipation.

“I—” Heat came up to his cheeks, knowing they were colored a bright blush and the men just howled with laughter. Which did not make Cullen scowl any less.

“Relax, Curly. I’m only telling you what I saw. We all have our secrets, and I am not one to stop a man from a romantic stroll with our lady Herald. She’s really something, you know.” He laughed, before he went straight into one of his stories about the Herald. But it wasn’t one of a recent time with the Inquisition, but a time in Kirkwall. How she had come to town alone, and somehow managed to whip a low-brow team of mercenaries into shape in less than a year. How her singing at the taverns was _legendary_ and could put any bard to shame.

“Careful,” Dorian teased, “They might hear you and request a song of her when she returns.”

“Would that be so bad?” Varric questioned, “We could see how Curly here reacts to her voice when she sings so when she sings for _him_ …”

“And, I suddenly have something else to do. Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Cullen prompted stood up, a poor attempt at trying to save face, but as bright red as he was, and the laughter that howled into the tavern from Varric and Dorian, it was obvious he would not get that dignity back.

***

Preparations were set. The choices they made had led them here, and there was no going back now. Tomorrow, they would close the breach. But tonight…

Tonight, Cullen was once more pacing his cabin, his mind racing. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if perhaps he should just forgo the lake. Forgo the conversation, there was no guarantee that she would show up, and there was no guarantee that…

He wasn’t sure what he was talking himself out of anymore. He had lost count somewhere along the 50th argument with himself that somehow, he didn’t win.

But when it got darker, and the stars shined brighter, he left his cabin. He was with his sword this time, not in his full armor, but enough to be warm, enough to be protected if something were to happen. He had not planned on getting any sleep tonight anyway, it was of no consequence to just be awake before. Yet something else he was telling himself. It helped to lie to himself sometimes.

Sometimes.

He made rounds around Haven, the pretense being that he was checking up on everything. Everyone. It was quieter than it normally was this time of night, but it seemed most people felt it important to rest. Tomorrow would be a big day, they didn’t know what would come of their attempt of closing the breach. The tavern was remarkably quiet, though soft music could be heard as he walked by. And when he felt there were no eyes on him – particularly that of a sneaky rogue dwarf; but if he could hear Varric, then he wouldn’t be that good of a rouge, would he – and made his way towards the lake.

Cullen had never been the type of person to allow himself such…thoughts, of looking forward to a conversation at night by a lake with the Herald that he was somehow suddenly growing fond of. And it felt sudden, didn’t it? He couldn’t tell. If he couldn’t tell, did it really matter?

He had thought she might not show. That she would be doing other things. Instead, as he turned the corner and came into the clearing, the large tree in sight, he saw her. Long legs dangling up from a tall strong branch, her head tilted up. It looked like her eyes were closed and her hair was down, blowing with the wind. Her hands tightly on the branch, not to fall. A sight he had never seen before, and she looked so content.

And she was _here_ which was admittedly something he did not expect.

Cullen didn’t want to disturb her, but as he walked closer, his best to be quiet was ruined as he stepped on a twig and the crunch broke the silence.

She didn’t startle, but she opened her eyes and turned her head towards him. “You came.” She said softly, and closed her eyes as she let herself fall backwards off the branch.

He rushed to aid her to only find, he didn’t need to do that at all. She artfully caught herself on the next branch down, and seemed to make a game of her heading towards solid ground. She laughed when her bare feet touched the grass, and put her hands on her hips. “I do that a lot,” laughing as she gestured to the tree now behind her and he relaxed.

She wasn’t armored, and she wasn’t protected, she was dressed as she had been the night before. And as her eyes roamed over him, and the curl of her lips upwards in a small smirk, he felt severely overdressed. Plus, severely hot under the collar.

Maker, save him.

“To think, I was looking forward to seeing you out of your armor tonight, _Commander_ ,” Ashara teased so easily, and his blush came to his cheeks just as quickly. Her words disarmed him in ways that somehow only she seemed to be capable of these days.

“Perhaps you will just need your imagination then, Herald.” Yet, he was proud of himself of that one, with the small eyebrow raise to meet her teasing, and she seemed amused. He hadn’t made a complete ass out of himself yet, and that was…perhaps the best thing about the night so far.

They both moved towards the base of the tree, where he set his sword down to the side, and took off his cloak, resting it on the ground for them both to sit on.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Ashara mock protested, settling in nicely under the tree.

“And yet I did,” Cullen replied, easily, his back now against the trunk of the tree. Silence fell between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable.

His eyes went to watch her, how she looked up at the stars. But she turned to look at him, catching him how he stared, and the silence turned awkward, for a moment.

“When I was younger, I took comfort in the tallest trees,” Ashara looked up at the tree behind them, “I could hide there, and trust that their branches would keep me safe. I could see the world from up there. Nothing could touch me. As free as a bird, it was how I felt.”

 _Bird. Bluebird. His mark_. He held back the slight fear that crossed over him then, swallowed it down. “How many times have you been in this tree since being here?”

“More times than I can count.” Ashara’s eyes fell down to her hand, the anchor that always glowed a little bit no matter the time of day, and her fingers traced over the center of it. “What if I can’t close it?”

Her voice was soft. Vulnerable. Scared. Something he hadn’t heard in her before. Lost was the fight in her voice when she stood up to him, calling him stubborn and walking out with fire behind her. “Ashara,” Cullen said softly, as he lightly nudged his shoulder against hers. It brought a small smile to her lips, but it did not draw her eyes away from her hand. “You will close it, because you’re the only one who can.”

“Only because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” His words hadn’t helped, because he had chosen the wrong ones. He tried again.

“No, because you are the right person. Your strength, your leadership, your kindness, everything you have done to bring us to this point. The Inquisition has grown because of you. Not because of this,” Cullen moved her fingers away from the mark, “But because of who _you_ are.”

Her eyes darted to his hand taking hers, and she brought her eyes up to lock with his. “You and I never agreed on anything until recently and now…do you mean this?”

“I do. And I do not need to agree with you to respect you, Ashara.” True and honest words, “Respect is important to me, and you have mine.”

He hadn’t realized he still held her hand in his, until she gave his hand a squeeze before releasing and he let her hand go. He cleared his throat, moving his hand to rub the back of his neck, and Ashara nodded with a smile. Her eyes diverted from his for a moment, just as his moved away from her. They both looked at the lake once more.

“Do you mind if we just sit here for a bit? Before we have to go back, before tomorrow, I just want to…rest.” Her voice was quiet, but the request was not one he could ignore. Not one he wanted to. His heart wouldn’t let him, how it beat loudly, how it ached.

“Of course.”

In a moment of silence, Ashara shifted closer to him, and rest her head on his shoulder. He dared not move and was happy to stay there for as long as she had wanted to.

***

If Cullen didn’t see it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it. The breach was closed. They had done what they had all deemed impossible, but their work was hardly done. Still, Josephine had insisted on a celebration, and so a celebration they were having. A job well done, she had said, despite Cullen telling her that they had much to do.

“ _Cullen_ ,” She had said, with much disappointment, “You have to allow us to celebrate the good moments! And this is a _very good moment_!” But it also hadn’t mattered what he said, because everything was underway, and when they returned triumphant, the celebration had already started.

People were cheering, dancing around the fire. Drinks clashed loudly against another in celebration. The Herald – no, _Ashara_ – was in conversation with Varric and Solas, smiling, seeming to allow herself this moment. Cullen watched them from afar by the fire with interest, and when she raised her eyes up to meet his, there was a soft smile of understanding.

He knew she could do it. And he planned on telling her that, as he started down towards to where she was, coming down the hill towards the stairs.

She was heading up the stairs, coming directly for him, to talk to him when there was a banging at the gate. Her smile fell and both of them looked at each other with concern, running to the gate. The protests of a young voice, of a young man trying to warn them, to help them. The gate opens and the young man in the floppy hat stops mid-sentence and looks directly at the Herald.

“I know you,” The young man says, “You know me, but you do not remember.” He blinks, and looks to Cullen, “They are here. You are in danger.”

But the young man wasn’t saying anything Cullen couldn’t already figure out, raising his sword and barking out the orders. To arms. To fight.

***

It happens fast. People are dead, Haven is ablaze, and there is no getting out of this alive.

“The Elder One does not care about the village, he wants the Herald,” the young man said, Chancellor Roderick clinging to him for stability and Ashara nodded.

“Then I will go to him. If it will save the others.” Her voice was…calm. At peace. Looking at her now reminded him of the peaceful look she had on her face as she sat high in the tree by the lake, and his heart fell. His heart _ached_.

“Herald! Ashara, you will _die_!”

“Guess it’s finally the right person, right place,” She said softly, and offered a half smile, but gave no room for reply as she ran through the doors. He didn’t hear Roderick informing them of a way out, of a way of survival. A sacrifice that she shouldn’t make, that none of them should have made, but it was war. The life of one to save the many, but maybe she could come out of this alive. Wanting to run out and fight alongside her, his hand was on his sword. But he felt the pull on his arm holding him back.

“Commander, we must go,” The voice belonged to Solas, who seemed to be as grief stricken as Cullen felt, but agreed. A hard nod, and they ran off towards the path, the only way to get out Haven alive.

They go out and kept running to escape, to turn and hear the sound of crashing. She had managed to cause a distraction, she managed to get them out, but what was Haven was no more.

It was nothing but snow-covered, the avalanche taking it over.

There was no sign of her. No sign of life.

They had to press forward. But that didn’t stop him from looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will most likely be posting on Wednesdays or Thursdays from here on out. Thank you for reading! :)


	4. Chapter 4

The fall is rough, and she lands into the cavern below with a loud thump. Her head hits the ground and she gives out a gasp before everything goes black.

“ _Wake up_ ,” she hears softly, and her eyes open. She’s still in the cave. It’s cold, and the way behind her is caved in.

_Of course_. She thinks. Haven is gone. But she has no idea if everyone got out okay. She doesn’t know if anyone is _alive_. Judging by how weak she feels, she’s not completely sure she’s fully alive either. But this isn’t the fade, she knows that much.

Ashara pushes herself up off the ground, but hisses in pain almost instantly. Her hand, her anchor, flairs up, the power overwhelming her and knocking her to her knees.

“ _You must be careful.”_ The voice says again, and it sounds familiar and yet doesn’t. It scares her, and yet comforts her. She closes her eyes as she struggles to get up once more, and looks to see who is speaking to her.

Her eyes widen as she holds onto her hand, and forces herself forward. “Now I know I must be dreaming. Or dead.”

In front of her is a wolf. Fur as black as night, with many eyes staring back at her. Smaller than what the stories had told, presenting himself as only slightly larger than the average wolf, but Ashara knows what this is supposed to be. _Who_ this is supposed to be.

_“You are not dreaming, and you are not dead. Why would you say such a thing?”_ There is agitation in his voice, and she stares at the Dread Wolf, and shakes her head. She walks forward. She keeps moving. “ _You must be careful,_ ” he repeats and Ashara stops in her tracks and snaps at him.

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” There’s venom in her voice, daring herself to stare at the wolf with anger in her eyes. Her tether behind her ear is painful, more than it had ever been before, and she doesn’t dare acknowledge it. She moves past him, her arm moving through him as if he is a spirit, and she scoffs. Of course. Her mind, it’s playing tricks on her.

He follows her though, soon walking next to her in the path in the cave, despite how narrow it is. He does not speak, but she feels all his eyes on her, on her tether. “ _You are tethered,_ ” the wolf growls, “ _You must listen to me._ ”

“How about _absofuckinglutely not_ ,” She snarks right back, refusing to look at him. “This is all in my head, and you are a figment of my brain, which definitely took a hit when I fell. This isn’t real, I just need to get out of this cave.” There is light up ahead, maybe a way out. She’s moving slow, she’s cold, but she’s determined.

“ _You are hurt.”_

“I am _very_ aware of that, thank you.”

“ _You must stop.”_

“Do you ever shut up?”

The annoyance in her voice is evident, but it is cut off almost immediately as the wolf moves in front of her, and grows in size, completely covering the path of the cave. He’s sitting, his large tail curled around her also blocking the way she had come from. Ashara curses under her breath, and the anchor flairs up as she tries to keep her footing. She will not be scared by her own imagination.

“ _You will listen. Or you will die here. Not because of me, but because this cave will not hold for long.”_

She has no where to go, she’s in pain, and if giving into her delusions is going to save her, then she’s got no choice. Right? Ashara huffs, and shakes her head. Her hand closes a fist over the anchor, and looks at the wolf with a look of _well, get on with it already,_ her eyebrow raised.

What it sounds like, is laughter, but Ashara doesn’t really want to know what Fen’Harel sounds like when he laughs, and she really doesn’t know why her brain is giving her this sound.

“ _I do not understand why I am able to speak to you outside of the fade, but it may be because of your tether.”_ He starts, “ _But I was requested to help you out of this cave, and I am helping you out of this cave.”_

“Who asked – you know what, I don’t actually care. If you’re going to help me, then _help me_. If you’re not actually a figment of my imagination, _Fen’Harel_ , then fucking help me. But standing in my way…”

“ _Be quiet.”_ His voice booms in the cave, “ _I can leave you here to die, and you will never know what your true purpose is. You know there is something you’re missing, don’t you.”_ It is not a question. It is a statement, a fact.

The fire in her eyes dies out, a look of more confusion. To hear her concern voiced out loud, that there has been a part of her missing for months, that she was unable to remember something she felt to her bones was important, was eating her away. She doesn’t know what to say, and when she tries, she’s interrupted.

The cave around them doesn’t seem as stable as she had originally thought it was. Rocks are starting to fall more, and if she’s not careful…

He can tell by her look that she is worried. Or, she thinks he can tell. She can’t fucking read his mind. Or can she? This is all very confusing, but she doesn’t really have the time to realize if she’s crazy or not. “ _Follow the path, it will lead you outside. When you are outside, walk forward. You will see where you need to go.”_ His form shrinks back down to the smaller size from before and walks away from her. She starts to move forward, and when she realizes he isn’t following, she looks back.

But he’s gone.

“I’m going crazy,” she mutters to herself, as she keeps going forward, moving forward, keep going.

The end of the path leads to a blizzard outside, and while she doesn’t want to go out, she can’t stay in the cave. She takes her first few steps out into the freezing cold and hears the sound of the cave collapsing behind her. Once again, she can’t go back the way she had gone.

The anchor glows brighter than she had ever seen it, and she holds out her hand. It can be a light, to try to help her, as she shivers through the snow. The wind is unrelenting, and the cold is unlike anything she can and has imagined or experienced. Snow makes it so she cannot see, and the anchor, while bright, is not cutting through the dark like she had hoped.

She walks for what seems like forever, muttering to herself to keep herself awake. Talking about how strange that had been in the cave, but she had now chalked it up to being delusional. She knows she’s wounded; she can feel it in every part of her body. She reminds herself of those she is trying to return to, her friends.

She talks out loud about her old stories with Varric, and how he tries to tell her that he hates her singing, but she knows he’s lying. How Dorian seems to be someone she knows she’s going to be close to – which is strange considering he’s Tevinter. That Leliana and Cassandra are terrifying, but they have their hearts in the right place.

She thinks of Solas, and the close friendship they had started to form. How he looks after her, and teaches her new spells to help her in combat. He tells her about ancient Elves and how the world used to be, and she looks forward to all his stories. He reminds her of a family feeling, or what she thinks it could have felt like if she had ever felt like she belonged anywhere. The Inquisition makes her feel like she belongs.

The anchor flairs again, and shoots a pain through her, knees buckling as she tumbles into the snow. It’s harder to get up now, the snow heaver in the hours that she’s been walking. Has it been hours? She doesn’t know. But a small camp nearby, fire out but it had been lit recently, gives her hope. Is she going in the right direction?

She moves on. She distracts herself more.

The tree in Haven is gone, she realizes, and the lake would be too. The comfort that she gained from that place is something that she’ll never experience again in that place. There is no Haven to go back to. That tree spot had meant something to her, had given her something to look forward to.

Before the breach closed, she was looking forward to the nightly talks. With Cullen. And that was something that had surprised her. The stuck-up former Templar wasn’t that stuck up after all. It also didn’t help that the newer tether on her arm grew the more she spoke to him, the more she thought of him. The lion was more detailed than she had imagined it the last time she looked, but she didn’t dare show him. It hadn’t, of course, stopped her from trying to see if _he_ had one. When she was young, she had known a few people that were tethered to someone who was not their tether back, and she didn’t want to get hopes up.

_Not_ that she had hopes up for the Commander. No, that was just her delusional mind playing tricks on her again. First, she thought she saw Fen’Harel. Now she was thinking about how she just wanted to be around Cullen more, and maybe have more night conversations, and perhaps see what happened if—

The anchor shocked her once more, abruptly bringing her out of her thoughts, and her muttering stopped. She cried out in pain, as she fell into the snow, but this time, she wasn’t getting back up. She could feel herself losing consciousness, and her mind played a final trick on her before it all went black: she could have sworn she heard Cullen and Solas’ voices.

***

The loud sound of bickering woke her up, her eyes slowly opening. She felt groggy, she felt…sore. But she felt warm. Her eyes scanned where she was; a tent, candlelight, and beside her was a person. The bickering seemed louder, and she groaned.

“They’ve been at it for days,” Came the voice, and Ashara turned to see Solas sitting next to her. “I am glad you are awake; it is a good improvement.”

She stayed silent but raised an eyebrow. Trying to adjust, trying to figure out everything that had happened, and as she sat up, she felt that her arms were bare.

Eyes widening instantly, her other hand flew over to cover her lion, but found it wrapped in a cloth. She looked to Solas, who nodded.

“I thought you may have wished it covered. I said that it was a wound, they did not think to ask about it otherwise.” Though Ashara was relieved, there was something in Solas’s voice that told her to be on guard. How he looked at her with fascination, and confusion all at the same time. “The one behind your ear though, that I cannot cover.”

It was then that she had realized her hair was pushed back, exposing where that tether was, and if Solas could see it…it meant her glamor wasn’t working. “Shit,” She muttered, as she undid the ribbon that was tying her hair up and pulled it back down around her side, but it was too late. He had seen it. She could feel that it was raw, that it had _grown_ but that was impossible unless…

…unless what had happened in that cave was not her imagination. That it was real. That…

“ _Fuck!_ ” Her voice was louder, and her curse had caught the ear of Mother Gisele, and Ashara immediately looked ashamed, “Sorry, moved wrong. Just woke up! Uh, let them know, yeah?” She asked, almost sheepishly, and while the Mother looked at her with concern, she still did as Ashara asked.

Solas, in his part, still hadn’t said anything.

Ashara shifted how she was, moving to stand up slowly, gather herself. She did not dare look at the Elf as she found her feet on steady ground and she went to replace her armor, putting on the pieces one by one, wincing slightly as the armor weighed on her shoulders.

“Herald…” Solas started, but Ashara finally looked at him and scoffed.

“You don’t believe that I am the ‘Herald’ as much as I do, so don’t give me that, okay? My name is fine.”

“Alright. Ashara, the mark…”

“Which one? I have _so many_ , Solas.” The snark in her tone was not one that she was planning on holding back, there was simply no reason for it. “The one on my hand that people want from me? The one on my arm that confuses me? Or the one on my neck that damns me? Pick one.”

“I was speaking of your hand, but perhaps you’d rather I ask of the one that damns you. Does the anchor not also do the same?”

“The anchor doesn’t scare me, Solas. It should. I don’t know where I got it, how, or why. But it doesn’t scare me.”

“So the one on your neck does?”  
  


Unable to hide her annoyance, “You saw it, Solas, didn’t you? Do you know what it is?”

“I—”

“Yes or no, Solas.”

“Yes.”

There is a sadness in his voice, one that Ashara recognizes. It’s the sadness that kicked her out of countless clans, it’s the voice that stopped her from getting close to another clan – or to anyone before the Inquisition. It brings up a reflex in her that she hates, immediately swallowing hard and standing up straighter, and taming her hair down to cover it. “Then we don’t have anything else to talk about.”

“Ashara –”

“Leave it be, Solas. You’re going to judge me like the rest.”

“Like the rest? Like the _Dalish_? Do you honestly think I am _anything_ like them?” How quickly his tone went from sadness to anger, like she _offended_ him. Like she hit a nerve. Perhaps she had, considering their talks from before. “I want to _help_ you. I cannot help you if you are stubborn.”

“And how are you going to help me? If you’ve seen it, then you know it’s grown. And you know that I can’t glamour it anymore. We have others in our group, we have elves, if they see it and they know that…” She stopped herself, knowing her voice was getting higher. Knowing that the more upset she was, the angrier she was speaking, the louder her voice. She stepped towards Solas, who was looking at her with concern. “Believe me or don’t, but when I…I escaped Haven, into a cave. I fell. Blacked out, I don’t know for how long. When I came to…I was guided by…” She stopped, “I sound crazy. Forgive me.”

His concerned look only seemed to grow, as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “It is alright. Continue. Please.”

This was going how it always went. She would tell the Keeper of the Clan that she was visited by Fen’Harel in the fade, though she did not speak to him, and suddenly she was cast out. Lost once more. She could feel the emotion bubbling up in her throat. She could feel that she was _scared_. And how pathetic was that? “I thought it had been a figment of my imagination, that I had been delusional, but I thought that Fen’Harel of all things was guiding me out. _Helping_ me. Which, also makes no sense.”

Solas’ reaction didn’t change from one of concern as she spoke, and she pulled away from him, looking around the tent for her items if anything had made it with her. Her small bag, with her two small mirrors, made it. And so, she gave one mirror to Solas, and held one herself. More like shards of mirror than contained shapes, she looked at him. “Hold this here,” She gestured to be in front of her, as she moved the mirror in her own hand. “As long as I can remember, I have had a small wolf tether behind my ear. Tethers don’t grow if you are never near the person, so it has only grown twice in my life. Both times before I was kicked from the Clan. Now…”

She positioned the mirror behind her ear to reflect the image in the mirror Solas held up in front of her. Seeing the reflection, her eyes went wide, and without her notice, Solas’ had as well.

The small wolf, which had before been small enough to hide behind her ear, was grown so that it was down her neck to her shoulders. In painfully beautiful detail. Emphasis on the painful.

Solas lowered the mirror, and took the piece from Ashara, and placed them both back into her bag. “I understand now,” He said quietly. “I can do what I can to research something powerful enough to cover it, if you wish.”

“I don’t want _more_ people having a reason to hate me. Most already think I’m sent from Andraste when…I’m an Elf. If the Dalish see this? Then I might as well just go on the run now. It doesn’t matter if others see it, I--” Cullen already knew about it. She had told him, in parts. But he had seen it when it was small. Not…how it was now. Suddenly she found herself concerned on what he would think if he knew the tether grew. And suddenly, she was confused as to why she was worried about that. 

“No. We will both stay. I’ll keep your secret if you help with another.”

“What?”

“Corypheus’ orb. It is Elven.”

“Well. Shit.”

***

Skyhold was not at all what she expected.

She had expected a small home in the mountains. Something that wouldn’t really be large enough for the Inquisition but would be enough until whomever they chose to lead would want to move.

She hadn’t expected a _castle_. On top of having a million questions to how Solas even _knew_ about this place, not wanting to hear the _I found it in the Fade_ answer stopped her from asking him.

Skyhold was large enough that everyone has their own space, places to be, and that was good. Because Ashara just wanted to help everyone get settled and not worry about anything else. Not worry about all three of her marks and what they meant for her life going forward. But it was here that they could keep working and try to bring peace again to Thedas. That was what they all wanted, right?

But making _her_ Inquisitor? She had been shocked. So much so, that she had accepted the appointment and then immediately left for Crestwood with Varric, Dorian, and Iron Bull for weeks to meet with Hawke and her Warden friend. Was that the best way to deal with the new appointment? Most likely not, but she needed to _hit something_ and needed to do it away from the prying eyes of those she worried for.

Of course, word had spread to who she was now, what she represented, and there would be no hiding and disappearing. Which if course, only brought out her anger _more_.

“Bluebird, you’re turning into a murder bird…” Varric had muttered while they were setting up another camp, and it brought laughs from Dorian. “Don’t tell Leilana, she may be jealous of the new nickname.”

But she had finally calmed down. Oddly enough, after realizing the Mayor had flooded Old Crestwood, and he was to blame. She didn’t want to be a leader like him. Running from responsibilities and not taking her new role seriously. Not taking care of the people who looked up to the position. It wasn’t lost on her, the irony that she had spent her entire life in hiding and now she was supposed to stay in one place. Be seen.

It was on their way back to Skyhold, camped a day out from arriving, that she had found out just how _seen_ she was these days.

“Boss, you might want to fix your hair,” Bull’s voice came smoothly over the fire. Varric and Dorian had gone to their tents for the night, and Bull and Ashara were taking first watch.

“Hmm?” The look of confusion on her face clear when she looked over to him. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I can see your wolf.”

Ashara instantly froze, as she moved her hand to her left side, and realized her hair had been pushed off. She had grown comfortable at night, and she was so used to letting it show at night when it was small, that she hadn’t remembered that she wasn’t alone. Quickly, she pulled her hair hard to her left side and braided it so it would stay, fixing it enough so the mark would be covered.

But she didn’t dare say anything.

“Might also want to fix your sleeve too, Boss.”

“Oh, _seriously?”_ The annoyance was more at herself, and lo and behold, Iron Bull had seen them both. She had gotten warm next to the fire, despite the cold temperatures around them, and had pushed both her sleeves up. Thus, exposing her other mark.

She buried her face in her hands as she frustratedly screamed into them, the sound thankfully muffled. A touch of her shoulder made her jump, dropping her hands instantly to see Bull sitting next to her. “How the hell are you so silent!?”

He laughed, “Can be when I need to be.”

“Apparently. Listen, Bull—”

“I’m not going to say anything if it’s something you want to keep hidden. But you got to get better at it, Boss. If Varric and Dorian were out here…”

“Yeah, I know.”

Silence dropped between them, and Ashara was feeling hot – not completely because of the fire, but it certainly wasn’t helping.

“So, two tethers, huh?” Bull questioned, and Ashara sighed.

“Yeah.” Explaining the Wolf was easier for her to do and giving the detail that she _could_ give – more than she had given Cullen, less than Solas knew – Bull looked at her in disbelief.

“Tethered to a _demon_?”

She shook her head immediately, “Not a demon, And…I guess. Maybe? Not…how you think. There is none of that when I touch it. But connected all the same.”

“And that one?” Bull gestured to her arm, and before she could answer –

“You don’t ask a girl about her tether, Bull, not unless you’re willing to share your own.” Dorian laughed, and sat down at the fire as well, “Also, do be quieter when you’re talking about matters like this, if it’s meant to be a secret?”

“I second Sparkler,” came Varric and his chuckling, and Ashara glared at Bull.

“What?” He innocently shrugged, or as much as he could, before Ashara just groaned and put her head in her hands again.

“Dorian, how much did you hear?”

There was a shrug from the Tevinter, “Enough. Though we all noticed the marks a few days ago. Which, reminds me,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small salve, “Should help with the one you want to cover, for now. I had it made special for myself years ago when I was ashamed of my old tether.”

The little bottle was placed into Ashara’s hand, and she opened it, putting some of the salve on her finger and let Bull gently move her hair again as she rubbed her fingers over the mark. The spot tingled slightly, and glowed, before the shine dulled. Bull made a sound of approval, but then a sound of annoyance. “Covered it for a minute. Came right back.”

“Yeah, it’s…a little stronger than the normal tether, I think.” Her voice was quiet, accepting of her own fate. Or at least, the ‘fate’ of the tether.

Dorian scoffed though, as if this wasn’t the worst thing. To him, it wasn’t, she supposed. “No need to worry, we will find something! Nothing but the best for you, my friend.”

“So, what’s yours that you wanted hidden, vint?” Bull questioned.

“At _first_ I had wanted it hidden, because I hadn’t wanted him to find out. See, my tether was to Felix, and I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. He was my best friend, the closest thing to a brother I ever had. When I found out he had the same, and we knew it was a platonic one, it made sense.” Dorian shrugged, “I never had it hidden again. He had to, unfortunately, Alexius would have positively gone _mad_ had he known.”

Bull chuckled, “More than he was in Redcliffe?”

“I’m afraid so, perhaps he would have perfected the time magic _earlier_ then. Be glad that didn’t happen! But what about you two gents? Any stories to tell?”

Bull shook his head. “Not me. Never had one. Never knew a Qunari to have one either.”

Varric shrugged his shoulders, “I’ve heard the stories of them, I know Hawke had one but she never quite figured out who it was for. I’ve never seen hers get larger than a simple outline though, but also…not my business to ask.”

“But no mark for you?”

“I think Bluebird has enough to cover for me,” Varric grinned, and Ashara just groaned.

She moved to stand up, but found she was still warm around the fire and the urge to move wasn’t as strong as she wanted it to be. The conversation changed quickly to other things, to what was to come when they got back to Skyhold, and even to some of Varric’s random stories about Kirkwall. They sat out there chatting for hours, and as the sun started to come up, Ashara realized she hadn’t gotten _any_ sleep that night. And, for the first time, it was for a good reason.

Despite the teasing, Ashara knew she was getting something she hadn’t had before. Friends. 

They all started to pack up the camp, get things settled and get back on their mounts to head home. Dorian and Bull rode ahead, where Varric and Ashara rode behind them. Each pair got into their own little conversations, with Dorian and Bull getting into what seemed only like a playful banter. Varric and Ashara were telling crazy stories, mostly about Kirkwall.

“Bluebird, you never told me, did you end up finding that amulet you were looking for those years ago?” Varric asked, his horse keeping in step with her own.

“What amulet?”

“The reason you claimed you came to Kirkwall for? You made a huge fuss over it for two years.”

“I…” Ashara furrowed her eyebrow and looked confused, “Varric, I’m sorry I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You…you’re pulling a fast one on me, aren’t you?” Varric’s voice turned to a little bit of worry, “How…you _have_ to remember that.”

“I don’t. To be honest, I barely remember my time in Kirkwall, or really my time before the Conclave. I’m still struggling to put everything back together. I get glimpses of things, of when I was young, some things are very clear and other things are…just blurry. Like they never happened.”

“That’s…troubling,” he muttered, and Ashara sighed heavily, unable to disagree.

“That’s an understatement.”

“The shit that happens to you is _weird_ , you know.”

She breathed out a laugh, “Yeah, I know that too.”

“So you going to use Dorian’s magic cream or whatever on your arm too? If whatever new thing he comes up with works, that is.”

“I doubt it’s going to do anything for the anchor, Var-“

“Your other Tether, Blue.”

“Oh.” Ashara looked down at her arm for the moment, her sleeve pushed up a little where she could see the rest of it. “I don’t know. Maybe just stick to long sleeves for now. I don’t know if this one is one I need to worry about.”

“Oh?” The hint of amusement came back into Varric’s voice, and to that Ashara just smirked and looked at him with a playful roll of her eyes.

“That’s all I’m saying about it. I don’t even know who it’s connected to.”

“Something tells me you do. You’re a terrible liar. On a related note, Wicked Grace when we get back?”

***

“She doesn’t remember, but I didn’t make her forget! I can’t make her remember. Why can’t I make her remember?”

“Cole, you should let this one be.”

“Scared and confused, _why don’t I remember that_? She worries about what else she is missing. What happened in Kirkwall, Solas?”

“Cole.”

“I know her. She doesn’t know me, she doesn’t know _you,_ why—where did it go? What were we talking about?”

“Come, I know of someone who may need your help.”

“I like to help.”

“I know.”

***

It had only been two days since they returned from Crestwood, and two days since Ashara immediately retreated to her quarters and didn’t leave. She could hear her advisors knocking on her door to check on her, but she didn’t reply. She hated to worry them like this, but she needed the time to think. There were things about her life that she didn’t remember, and the anchor _had_ to have something to do with it. Right? It tracked well; she hadn’t been able to remember what happened at the Conclave and in the Fade, and maybe her other memories had been messed with.

But that, on top of her ‘helpful’ guide in the cave, she was thinking she was going insane. She wanted to feel like herself again. She wanted not to worry about the perceptions of others, she didn’t want to worry about leadership. Which, was against everything she had told herself when they left Crestwood but she could be allowed a minor lapse in judgement. For now. She wouldn’t get that later.

She took time for herself. She bathed. She rested. She searched for answers in the Fade, but didn’t get anything. That seemed to unnerve her more – nothing happened when she was in the Fade. She wasn’t visited by any spirits, she just…was alone.

But she couldn’t isolate herself for much longer. She wasn’t getting the answers she wanted here, and besides, isolating wasn’t helping her in the ways she wanted.

One of her tethers kept growing.

Only, it wasn’t the one behind her ear.

It was dumb to think that she could possibly avoid one of her advisors. It was a theory she tried to test, that if she kept her distance from Cullen, perhaps the tether wasn’t to him. It hadn’t grown in Crestwood, or when she was on the road. But when she got home, and caught a glimpse of him as she headed to her quarters, she felt her skin tingling. Her heart picking up.

They hadn’t spoken since she was made Inquisitor. They hadn’t spoke much since she recovered after Haven either. It had been a month, if not longer, since their last conversation. She hated how much she longed for another one, and dreaded it at the same time.

This mark, it didn’t mean that she had to do anything with the knowledge. She was working on assumptions! It couldn’t mean what she thought it meant. But seeing that it was the only mark she had that wasn’t trying to link her to some God or to ancient magic she didn’t fully understand, she was drawn to it. Or maybe she was drawn to _him._

She actually groaned at that when she thought of it. Why was she acting like an idiot?

It was best to force herself out, and so she did. She dressed in the new clothes that Josephine had picked up while she was away from Skyhold. Comfortable pants that she could move and dash in, which she appreciated. There was a variety of options she had for a top, but Ashara found herself drawn to a long sleeve black shirt, outlined with a jeweled butterfly. It made her feel…well, it made her feel pretty. It was rare that she felt that about herself, when she spent so much time trying not to stand out.

She couldn’t hide anymore, so she might as well embrace it.

Her hair was pulled to the left side once more, covering her mark. Her old glamour spell she knew when she was little wasn’t working anymore, and nothing she read about helped – she could check in with Solas and with Dorian. Maybe if they worked together, they’d be able to help. Though that would have been asking a bit much of both of them – she couldn’t tell if they liked each other or not, and she wasn’t sure if she _wanted_ to know.

But still she headed that way, as she left her quarters. Running past Josephine and promising they would catch up, she ducked past Varric who was deep into writing letters, and through the door that lead into the rotunda.

The walls were not the bare white she had seen when she left, but murals were starting to form. “Solas, you paint?”

His chuckle came from the top of the wooden structure, and he set his paintbrush down, and headed down the ladder to greet her. “I do. Someone should chronical your deeds, what better place than here?”

Her eyebrow raised, “You think more highly of my deeds than I do.”

“One of us should.” He paused for only a beat, “Dorian requested my help in creating a magical salve for you.” It was his turn to raise an eyebrow, looking at her in almost a _judgmental_ way that she had thankfully gotten used to over the years.

“He saw the mark. Varric and Bull did too. All three of them know.”

“What do they know?”

“Less than you, but enough to know why I want it covered.”

“I see.”

“They don’t know what you told me, if that is what you’re wondering.”

“I was not wondering that at all.”

“Then why are you looking at me as if you want to scold me?”

“Because if you wish to keep something secret, it is perhaps best not to tell the extravagant storyteller, the Tevinter mage, and the Ben-Hassrath spy.”

“Two out of those three people will keep their mouth quiet!”

“Ashara...”

She held her hand up to stop him. “Listen. I trust them. I know you don’t. You don’t seem to trust anyone besides me, and I don’t truly understand that, but I guess I’m just going to have to try. But you trust _me,_ so trust _them_. Dorian wants to help. Let him help. You two do make a good match when you’re working together, I’ve seen it.”

Solas’ eyes glared at her, and then his eyes went up to the balcony behind Ashara. She turned around to follow his glance and saw Dorian leaning over the banister, and waved. “Do be a dear and talk more loudly about how wonderful I am, I’m straining to hear you!” He then laughed, and disappeared from view, and Ashara just smirked.

A sound of annoyance came from Solas, but there was no heat behind it. When she turned to look at him, the older man was smirking himself. “Fine, I will allow him to help me.”

“Allow! Oh, look at you, you’re being so collaborative! I am so proud.” Full of sarcasm, the smirk on her lips turned into a bright smile, as she heard the footsteps she expected coming down the stairs and Dorian emerged in the rotunda. “I appreciate this. Both of you, thank you.”

Dorian nodded, and held up two books in his hand, “I found one of the books you mentioned, and I have one that I think also might help. Do you have the ingredients I asked for?”

“I do,” Solas nodded, and Ashara looked at both of them with a bit of shock.

“Wait, you were already working on this?”

Solas shrugged, “You hid away for two days, we needed something to occupy the time.” The sound that came from Ashara was a strange mix of laugher and disbelief, and she rolled her eyes.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it.” The men gathered at Solas’ desk, as she walked past them and towards the door leading to the outside.

***

She had not realized how late it was until she stepped outside and saw Skyhold under a cover of darkness. It was much different from what she had experienced in Haven, everything was on such a larger scale. More places to walk, more places to explore. She hadn’t spent long in Skyhold before she had run off to Crestwood.

It was a short walk over the path towards the Commander’s quarters, but she took her time. Mostly because the moment she had stepped outside, and had looked across the way at his door, her heart started to pound. She could face down demons no problem. Facing him? Apparently put her into overdrive.

When she reached the door, she took a deep breath and knocked.

A commanding, “Enter,” was a reply, and she slowly opened the door and peeked inside.

He stood in his undershirt and pants, the armor hung neatly up next to the right side of the desk. Bookshelves lined the wall to the left, and candlelight was the only thing lighting the room. His undershirt was slightly undone at the top, the strings hanging loose.

Her breath felt caught in her throat, and she walked more into the room, and shut the door behind her.

The sound of the door was what brought his attention to her, and he looked up from the papers he was reviewing to look at her.

“Inquisitor,” He said quietly, his features softening, “I was hoping you would come by.”

“Commander,” she replied, biting the corner of her lower lip as she walked towards him. “Were you worried?”

“About you? No. Should I have been?”

“Perhaps. I haven’t spoken to you in weeks.”

“Your duties took you away, just as mine keep me here. I understand the work.”

He walked around to the front of his desk and leaned against the front of it. She took more steps towards him, until she was in front of him. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit you when I came back.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“Are you certain?”

He smiled. “Yes.”

Ashara moved her fingers to the tips of her hair and played with them through her fingers. “It’s a nice night. Do you want to go for a walk?”

She expected him to hesitate, but instead he pushed off his desk and stood up straighter, reminding her how much taller than her he was. “I would like that,” He said, as he gestured to the door. “Lead the way.”

Ashara felt the heat in her cheeks, and nodded quickly, and cleared her throat. Suddenly feeling like her throat was dry, that there were butterflies in her stomach. A feeling she wasn’t used to. “Come on, I hear we have an amazing view this high up.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working to gain that "M" rating! Also updated the main story summary, because as I write this, the more it's going from a basic romance to a mystery type story. Leave comments!

She walked out the door to the battlements and he followed her, ignoring the pounding of his heart and the burning of his skin. He knew the telltale signs now. Just being around her caused the mark to grow far faster than he had expected and the details in the bird now looked so realistic one might think a bird was sitting over his heart. He had never known a tether to have _color_ to it, but his was getting brilliant shades of blue, contrasting against the dark black, and it was _breathtaking._

He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

Or, that had been his thought _before_ she walked into his quarters. Once again, as she was wont to do, she had caught him completely off guard. Out of his armor. Relaxed, which was a rare thing for him to feel. Being near her _calmed_ him, despite also feeling like there was a war going on with his heart. How she seemed so relaxed as well, the smile on her face when she greeted him, the bite on her lower lip, the way her hair fell over her shoulder, the ends dipping into her…

He had to stop thinking of this when he was so close to her. But she made it difficult, his mind starting to easily drift into places he shouldn’t go.

He had been in _lust_ before and knew what that felt like. This didn’t feel like that. It felt stronger, something building slowly and if he wasn’t careful it might just swallow him whole.

Cullen had been a bit of a terror when she had left for Crestwood, but he hadn’t realized it until Cassandra had called him out on it. She had told him that he was distracted, that he was working himself and others far too hard. Things would be alright, they had plans, and they would be able to get done what they needed to. He claimed he just needed to make sure that what happened at Haven would not happen here. It was the truth.

The other part of the truth was that he missed her. Not having the chance to speak with her in private, to make sure she was okay, to make sure she was…she had left so quickly after they made her Inquisitor that it made his head spin.

“I haven’t had a lot of time to explore,” Ashara’s voice cut through his thoughts, “Have you?”

“Ah, no. I’ve been busy working to reinforce our walls and create guard rotations. We got a lot accomplished while you were gone though. We will be able to whatever is needed next on your order.” Cullen nodded, professionally, before realizing that _personally_ he shouldn’t have said that.

He watched as her smile fell, and he soon found himself stumbling over his words. “I—I did not mean to…Maker’s breath, please tell me I did not offend you, I do not know if I could handle that.” His voice was quiet at the end, and he realized he had stopped in his tracks.

“You didn’t offend me, Cullen,” she said softly, and touched his arm. The gentle touch was enough to set his skin ablaze, and he swallowed back the words he wanted to say. Removing her hand, she added, “I’m not used to people wanting me.”

“I—” He started without thinking and she quickly added onto her thought.

“Wanting to lead, I mean. I’m…sorry, that was…” And she started to laugh. “I’m sorry, I never seem to know what to say around you these days. Or…”

He swallowed hard, hand moving to rub the back of his neck as he looked at the ground for a moment. “I understand. And, I’m glad I didn’t offend you.”

“I don’t know if you could offend me.”

“I have in the past. When we first met.”

“Yeah. I suppose you did,” She replied, seeming amused, “Funny how people change, hmm?” She started walking again, heading down the stone path towards the tavern. “Let’s grab a bottle of something, and go to the gardens. I’ve wanted to go there, and I haven’t yet.”

Cullen wanted to tell her it was a bad idea. That maybe he shouldn’t be getting a drink with her this late, when there was so much to be done, and he wanted to be aware of himself. But, that was also the problem, was that he was _too aware of himself_ and how he felt just being around her, how his skin felt on fire, and his heart wanted to leap up through his throat. “Of course, do you want me to meet you in the gardens?”

“No, why don’t you just wait here? Won’t take but a minute, I promise.” She headed down quickly down the steps, and disappeared into the tavern, while Cullen leaned against the stone looking down. The guards that were on patrol were on the other side of the battlements making their rounds, they wouldn’t be over here any time soon. The power of knowing the rotations, was that he could avoid them if he needed to

The fact that he was considering running around Skyhold with the Inquisitor hiding from his own guards amused him, and made him question why he was willing to act like a teenager when he hadn’t been like a teenager when he _was_ one.

He could hear some laughter coming from the tavern – as lively as it always was, and he made a note that he needed to visit there more often. Leilana insisted that he could use the break, but he was always more concerned with everything that needed to be done. Always working, never resting, never sleeping. Lately, though, he was getting some sleep, and when he was he was dreaming. Not nightmares, but dreams. Of what he wanted, of seeing _her_ , of…

“Success!” Her voice rang out as she ran up the stairs, and held up two bottles of wine, “One for me, one for you!” Her grin was wide.

“I don’t think that I need a bottle to myself?” He said, in some disbelief, and it was met with more laughter.

“Nonsense come on. Let’s go!” Ashara didn’t move anywhere though, looking around as she got to the top of the stairs, “I…don’t know the best way to get there, can you lead the way?” She looked like she was blushing, and Maker, that was going to be the death of him.

“Come on,” He gestured, as he led her up through the battlements and through one of the towers that wasn’t complete yet. “There shouldn’t be anyone on watch on this side for a while, we could have some privacy.”

She was walking beside him, holding onto both of the bottles of wine, and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Looking to get me alone, Commander?”

The heat that flushed through his face wasn’t something he could even hide, as his eyes went a little wide and she looked at him amused again. He looked her over as they neared the stairs to head down into the lower levels of the castle, to lead them to the gardens, “Perhaps.” Taking a chance, to risk the reaction he might get from her.

But her sudden silence and stunned expression that flashed over her features for a brief moment was all he needed to know it had been a good decision.

“Not that far now. There might even be a nice tree for us to sit under,” He added, as he lead the way. Though when he said that, he didn’t dare look back as he headed down the stairs. He knew she was right behind him, even if he couldn’t quite hear her footsteps.

***

“Did I ever tell you I was in Kirkwall for two years?” Ashara asked, as she took a drink from the bottle, and handed it over to Cullen, who took his own drink in turn. They were almost done with one of the wine bottles, and truly Cullen didn’t think he really needed the second. Everything was warm, and he felt light. Relaxed, if that was the right word. Drunk might have been the better word for it.

They were sitting on a bench under a large tree. The leaves were not fully out, so they were able to see the stars above them clearly. The branches were sturdy, but apparently not good enough for climbing, which Ashara had pouted at. Cullen had to stop himself from kissing her when she had pouted, simply because he found himself in awe over the fact that he was granted the permission to see this side of her. Or, perhaps that was his drunken thoughts trying to take him over.

“You were?” Cullen replied, raising an eyebrow as he handed the bottle back to her. “I was stationed there, I had no idea.”

“I sort of avoided the Templars, no offense,” She shrugged as she took a drink, and Cullen chuckled.

“No offense at all. Understandable.”

“Besides, I think I would have remembered you. If I had saw you then.”

The bottle was empty, as she tossed it to the ground, but she didn’t go for the second one yet. In her movement of dropping the bottle to the ground, she had shifted closer to him and their shoulders were touching. He tried to ignore the pace of his heart at the closeness, but the lack of sobriety was making that a struggle.

“I think I would have remembered you as well, Ashara,” he said quietly, his voice feeling heavy and thick with things he couldn’t say.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them dared to say anything. “Did you leave anyone behind? I mean, was there someone you were interested in back in Kirkwall?”

“Not in Kirkwall,” he quickly replied, “You?” He tried to ignore how strange he felt asking that question, wanting to figure out an answer.

“No,” She smiled, “Not in Kirkwall. Not until recently, I—”

His heart was in his throat, hanging on her every word, the wine influencing his thoughts, but she was interrupted by a voice he only slightly recognized.

“You there! This area is off limits while it is under construction!” It was one of his guards, a young man who only just started in on the rotation. Cullen’s features turned to annoyance, and he was about to turn to face the man but he felt Ashara’s hand on his shoulder.

“Shush, don’t do anything.” Her voice was a whisper in his ear, and she was leaning into him.

“But-“ Cullen struggled to get out the words, but she was so close and he could just…

“I said you there! Show yourself!”

“I’d rather not!” Ashara called back, “I’m a little busy here! My _companion_ and I are enjoying a lovely bottle of wine…”

The young guard got closer, and Cullen stilled. The young man was close enough to see who they were he looked hard enough, but the night sky and the dimly lit gardens protected their view. Cullen kept his back to the guard, looking at Ashara in amusement. As the guard got closer, Ashara shifted on the bench and moved to straddle Cullen’s lap. She put her hands on either side of his face, to block the guard from seeing who he was.

But Cullen found himself so hyper focused that she was in his lap, that he couldn’t help but run his hands up her thighs, until his hands came to rest at her hips. He stayed looking at her, and she was looking down at him for a moment, before she looked at the guard, “Hello? We need some privacy here!”

The guard flustered, but he stood his ground. If Cullen wasn’t the one in this situation, he would have been proud of the guard’s stubbornness. “Miss, I do not want to have to report you to the Inquisitor and the Commander for breach of orders.” At this, Cullen tightened his grip on Ashara’s waist, and she shifted in his lap as if to prove a point. He swallowed hard, as the guard once more demanded, “This is your last warning!”

Cullen actually laughed then, and Ashara did too, as she looked at the guard. Then, she brought her attention back down to Cullen and whispered in his ear, “Turn your head away,” and as he did she moved her hand with the anchor and let it shine it’s green magic. Not a lot, but enough that the guard would know who he was talking to. The light also showed clearly who she was, but since Cullen had moved his head away, and was not in his armor, the young guard didn’t know who he was.

The change in the young man’s voice was instant, “Oh! Oh, oh Inquisitor, I didn’t know I…”

“How about this, you leave now, and I won’t tell Commander Cullen about this incident.”

“Yes, please. Uh, so sorry, I…” and the guard took off out of the gardens. Ashara started laughing, still in Cullen’s lap, as she leaned back a bit with her hand on his shoulder as she ran her other hand through her hair. Cullen had laughed, but he was finding he was far too distracted, and was staring at her.

“Okay, even you have to admit that was—” She started, looking down at Cullen, but he cut her off, pulling her down into a rough and sudden kiss.

Cullen did not give her time to react to it though, as he immediately pulled back, “I’m sorry,” he started, as Ashara looked at him curiously, though she slowly moved off his lap. An instant feeling of guilt washed over him, as he swallowed hard, trying to recover any semblance of dignity in the moment, “I didn’t mean…”

“Cullen, shut up,” She muttered once she was standing in front of him, and held out her hand for him. “Come on,” waiting for him to react.

He was hardly in the position to stand up and show just how much his mind had wandered in the moment she had gotten into his lap, but he leaned down to get the other full bottle of wine, and she made a sound.

“Leave it. Come on,” She said with a little more impatience, as he took her hand and stood up. She was leading them towards the castle, and he hadn’t realized that they came across a door until she opened it.

“Ashara, I—” he once again started but was pulled into the room, and once the door was shut, found himself shoved against the door. It was then that Ashara was on him, her lips crashing into his, her hands trying to find anything to hold onto. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to him, deepening the kiss and returning it with the same passion she was giving him – enough to knock him off his feet if he wasn’t careful.

They kissed each other, pulling at each other, and he pushed off the door to guide her somewhere else, anywhere else. When she backed into something, the kiss broke and they found themselves against a bed.

Both of them looked at the piece of furniture and looked back at each other, Cullen’s heart officially loud enough he knew she could hear it, that she could feel it. He swallowed hard as she gently reached out to touch his chest, her hand running over the fabric of his shirt, her fingers resting on exactly where his tether was.

His tether to _her_.

“Wait,” She started, as she looked up from where her hand was and looked at him directly, “I…okay, we’ve had things to drink, and I don’t want this to…”

Cullen’s hand was still on her waist, and he put his other hand over her own on his chest. The contact cause causing strange things to his tether, he could feel it, but more so he felt like there was no one else he wanted to look at for the rest of his life. And that sudden, almost out of nowhere realization sobered him slightly.

“We’ve had things to drink, I shouldn’t have—”

“—wait no! Stop. Okay. Cullen, I don’t regret that kiss. Or the one after.”

“ _Oh_.” What he had started to feel as a flight instinct stopped, and he smiled. “Good. I don’t either. I’ve…wanted to do that longer than I care to admit.”

“Then let’s do this right. I don’t want to be—”

“—you deserve better than—”

They both laughed, stumbling over each other’s words brilliantly.

She let her hand move slowly down his chest, before she moved her hand away, and he watched her carefully. Wanting to make sure that if he was dreaming this, or if it would never happen again, he would remember this. He needed to remember this.

“I won’t be heading to the Western Approach for another few days. Do you think it’s possible we can try to find the time to be with each other?” She asked, and then blushed, “I mean around each other. If you—”

“Yes.” Cullen nodded, “If it means I can see you again in this way, I would jump at the chance.” He moved his hand from her waist, and she smiled.

“Good. I…should leave. We both should,” She said, but hesitated, “I don’t want to, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to really control myself right now.”

Maker help him, she winked as she said it, and he wanted to kiss her again right there, to just throw it all to the wind and do what he wanted to. But she deserved better than a drunken night. “Let me escort you back at least.”

“No.” She said, and moved away from him and walked to the door. She opened it, and he did his best to not look disappointed. “Not…tonight. But, next time, I will escort _you_ back.”

He grinned, “I like the sound of that.”

“Good.” Ashara lingered at the open door, before she walked back to him, and kissed him once more. Soft, sweet, not rushed and rough like it had been before. A kiss that promised of more to come. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cullen. Sleep well.”

She then slipped away and out the door and into the garden. Cullen waited for a moment to calm his heart, and think about what the hell just happened before he left the room himself. He went back to the bench where they had discarded their bottles, but found them to be gone. 

He returned to his quarters, taking paths he knew not to be traveled by the rotation, and once inside, went to sit behind his desk. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, but for the first time, it was for a reason he enjoyed.

It felt good to have a smile on his face.

***

He had managed to fall asleep at his desk at one point, but as he woke up in his chair, it was to his cloak around his shoulders – something that had not been there when he arrived. As he stretched out his arms above his head, his eyes scanned his office, and landed on his desk.

Specifically, landed on a bottle of wine and a small note on his desk. The handwriting was neat, and how his name was written was beautiful – his own handwriting didn’t look like this. He might be in a completely different profession if it had. Shrugging the cloak off his shoulders and letting it fall, he leaned forward to take the note and turn it over.

It wasn’t sealed, so it was easy to open, and he read it with interest.

> _Cullen –_
> 
> _Save this bottle for later, I think it’s only right we eventually share the second one, yeah?_
> 
> _Also, as a favor to me, don’t fall asleep where you work. You’ve got a bed, right? Sleep there. With blankets. You looked cold, sorry for messing your armor up! I tried to put it back neatly without waking you._
> 
> _Oh, and in case you’re like me, and wondering if it was a dream…_
> 
> _…this is your confirmation that it wasn’t._
> 
> _I’ll see you soon._
> 
> _\- Ashara_

So, she had brought the bottle back, put it on his desk with a nicely written letter, and put his cloak over his shoulders…all while he was sleeping?

Cullen wasn’t sure what he was more confused about: that he had managed to sleep through her entire visit and he didn’t wake, or that he had managed to sleep at all.

***

When he entered the war room, Leilana, Josephine, and Ashara were already there. They were laughing, in the middle of clearly what had been a great story, and as Cullen entered the room, the laugher faded out. “Am I interrupting something?” He asked, with a smirk on his lips, and nodded to each of them, though he didn’t look directly at Ashara.

“I was just telling the Inquisitor about a report I was given, a young guard reporting something rather _unusual_ last night.” Leilana did not hide her smirk, she did not hide her amusement, and she glanced at Cullen in a way that told him that perhaps she knew more than he wished she did.

Ashara shrugged, and laughed again, “Listen, it’s hard for _anyone_ to get any privacy around here!”

“Especially you, it seems,” Josephine added.

Cullen, despite knowing the story since he had been _there_ , pretended otherwise. His normal stance of standing tall, he took his spot behind the table and looked to Leilana, “What exactly happened? I’m afraid I’m missing something.”

“Oh, _Cullen_ , you so very much are! Our Inquisitor was caught in a _scandeous_ embrace with a man in our employ!” She looked at Cullen with interest, and he reacted without thinking.

The blush that came to his face, the heat behind it, he cleared his throat and wondered what exactly the young guard had said. “Oh..Oh, I…I do not need to hear this.”

“You may need to speak to the young man,” Ashara chimed in, her hands behind her back, as she bounced a bit on her feet. She looked like she was up for trouble, and he knew exactly what she was doing.

“Maker, _why_?” He scoffed, acting offended.

“Well the young man seems to think he’s going to lose his job, catching the Inquisitor like that. He hadn’t known it was her.” Josephine added, her pen in the air, ready to write down anything they needed to. He did not want this on the record.

“He also is fearful on who he thought the man was,” Leilana added, and Cullen immediately looked at Ashara, who lost her smile.

“Who did he think it was?” She asked, and Leilana shrugged.

“He would not say. Only that he wished to keep his job.”

Cullen sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I will speak to him, if you give me his name. But can we move on to more pressing matters?”

Leilana bowed, “Certainly. My agents have found something interesting in the Western Approach…”

***

“D’Ontso, a word?” Cullen beckons once the daily drills are done, and he stands in the field outside of Skyhold with his hands in front of him, the picture of _commanding._ Or, he certainly hopes that’s what he’s giving out, because he doesn’t wish to talk to D’Ontso at all. The young guard who had caught Ashara and him in a…well she had caused the position to get the young man to leave, but caught all the same.

“Yes, Commander?” The young man was no older than 20. Fresh from Crestwood, joining with the Inquisition after they returned. He was determined and bright, wanting to prove himself worthy, and Cullen saw a lot of who he used to be in the young man. He could see it, the eagerness to prove himself could be his downfall. It could blind him.

Yes, Cullen saw a lot of himself in this young man.

“I was told of the report you gave our Spymaster regarding the Inquisitor. I am told you demanded the Inquisitor leave the gardens under orders? I did not give any such orders.”

“No, Commander. Sorry, Commander.” D’Ontso lowered his head to the ground, his shoulders slumped.

“Soldier, look at me when we are speaking. I wish to understand what happened. That is all.” He could have been more demanding. He should have been more demanding. But he couldn’t.

D’Ontso took his hat off, and it was then that Cullen realized the young man was an Elf. Why hadn’t he known that before? It of course didn’t matter the race of the person serving the Inquisition, but it did explain why he was more than eager to try to prove himself. Cullen’s features softened.

“D’Onsto, I just want to know who told you about the gardens. I will not reprimand you for a simple mistake. We all make them. I made a few of them in my youth.”

The young man’s hands gripped onto his helmet tightly as he looked up at Cullen and stood straighter. “I was told there was construction going to the gardens, I had simply assumed that no one was allowed there. It was my mistake, Commander, no one else but myself. I apologize, and I will apologize to the Inquisitor as well, if she will still have me in the Inquisition.”

If Cullen doesn’t fully believe D’Onsto, he doesn’t show it. He just nods, “I believe she will. I will send word that you wish to apologize to her in person. But from now on, if you think you hear an order from someone who is not me, please report to me and check. Is that understood.”

“Yes, Commander!” The young man nods.

“Good. You are dismissed.”

D’Onsto nodded, and ran off towards the gates of Skyhold, to catch up with the other recruits. Cullen took a moment to watch him disappear beyond the gate before he followed through.

The moment he stepped foot past the gate and it started to close, he felt a small breeze, and heard a laugh. He turned to look behind him to see Ashara, removing her Ring of Doubt, and pocking it. “Nice talk you had with him, Commander,” She said, stepping up to him, and they walked up through the gates into the courtyard together. “Do you believe what he says?”

“I am not sure, but I don’t think this matter needs to be investigated more.”

“Why?”

“I do not wish for people to spread… _rumors_ about you.”

Ashara laughed, her hand pressing against her chest, “Cullen, I don’t care what people think of me! He got to see me getting frisky with _someone_ that I’m interested in. It’s natural.”

Cullen coughed and cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very warm under all his armor. They bounded up the stairs towards his office and quarters, “You may not care, but I do.”

“Cullen, why? No one knows it was you.”

“I care what they think of _you_.” He added very quickly, as he went to open his door. He walked a step in, but realized she wasn’t following him. He turned back, looking at Ashara questioning, and she smirked.

“I escorted you back to your quarters,” She said with a wink, “And now we’re even.”

Cullen laughed, unable to help the surprised look on his face. Ashara made a broad gesture, and bowed to him dramatically, “Now I must be off to see two of my favorite mages, but I’ll see you in the tavern tonight. Hope you know how to play Wicked Grace!”

She waved goodbye and walked off down the path towards the outside door to the rotunda in the Castle’s main hall, and Cullen did not deny that he enjoyed watching her leave.

And noticing how she swayed her hips a bit, he had a feeling she knew that as well.

He shook his head in disbelief as he shut his office door behind him, once he saw Ashara disappear into the castle. She would be the death of him. He knew it.


	6. Chapter 6

_This was it. It was the end of the life that she knew she had, and what she was leaving behind may just destroy her._

_But it was her purpose. Why she had come to the Conclave in the first place. Why she had ended up with the Inquisition. Why she had done anything until this point. With her memories restored, there was no reason to hide it anymore._

_She reached him at the large Eluvian, where he stood with his back to her. “I was waiting for you,” he says, and she steps closer._

_“It took longer than expected.”_

_“Were you followed?”_

_“No,” She looks behind her, nothing but the stone-frozen figures behind them. “The mirror broke when I entered it, just like you said.”_

_He still had not turned to look at her, and she struggled. She wanted to see his face, to finally be able to greet the man she knew had set her on this path. “You are not ready.”_

_“Wait!” She protests, and grabs his arm, “What do you mean? I have done everything that you asked!”_

_“I gave no orders,” He replies, “And this is not real.”_

_It is then that he turns to look at her, but she cannot see his face. It is blurred, there are no features that she recognizes. Like something is actively blocking it. “When it is time, when it is really time, I will be happy to see you. But until then, you need to wake up.”_

And she did wake up, shooting straight up in her bed, her eyes wide and blown out, her heart racing. The dreams were getting more vivid, as if it were stories that she knew, or stories she _knew_ were going to happen but she couldn’t understand why.

It had to be the anchor’s fault. The magic in it was old, it was something she didn’t understand, and it wasn’t _hers._ She knew it was borrowed, she had known it for a long time, and yet…it wouldn’t leave. And who would she be if it did disappear? An Inquisitor who was unable to close the rifts, she’d be a waste.

Would she be treated differently if she suddenly lost the ability to close the rifts? Would the Inquisition even still follow her? Would she still be respected by her friends, or would she lose them all?

Would she lose Cullen’s respect?

That last thought caused her more panic and distress than her dream had. She liked Cullen. She liked making him smile, seeing what she could to do get him flustered, and bringing out a side of him not many saw. He could be smooth when he wanted to be, and in those moments, it took all Ashara had not to just allow herself to just be lost in him.

But would he respect her less, if she couldn’t do what she was here for?

The anchor was bright on her hand. Almost blindingly so, and she rubbed her eyes with her other hand.

But there was a pain behind her neck, and she shoved the sheets aside as she ran to the mirror in the large bedroom and grabbed her smaller hand mirror she had Josephine bring her. The tether behind her neck – it grew. For the first time since escaping Haven, and her heart rate immediately picked up. Yet as she tried to remember what she had dreamt about, she couldn’t. She couldn’t remember if there was anything that had resembled Fen’Harel, and she couldn’t understand what it meant. Only that the tether was larger, and she needed to speak to Dorian and Solas immediately to see if that had made any improvements. She needed to get this covered up. Because if word got out…if things started to spread…

It would be another thing she’d have to worry about. She would lose the respect of everyone. She knew the ones who knew, they didn’t mind. Or, they didn’t understand. Cullen, Dorian, Varric, Bull…they weren’t Dalish. They didn’t know the stories. They weren’t raised like those in the Clans were. Solas, he didn’t identify with the Dalish…or any Elves it seemed, but she still worried if he looked at her like there was something critically wrong with her.

Frustrated, she dressed and left her quarters. With only a day left before she left for the Western Approach to meet Hawke and Stroud, she wanted to make the most of what she had left in Skyhold.

But leaving down the stairs and heading into the main hall, she was immediately greeted with arguing. And it was coming from the fireplace where Varric usually was.

“Seeker, you don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Oh. Well, this was going to be either interesting or disastrous.

Ashara approached quietly, as she listened in on the conversation more. Varric was holding onto Cassandra’s wrist, and she was staring at him with what could only be described as daggers in her eyes. But considering that was how she normally looked at the author, Ashara wasn’t overly concerned.

But it was Varric’s look, one of _pleading_ and _desperation_ that caused her to step in.

“Is everything alright?”

Varric and Cassandra immediately stopped looking at each other and looked at Ashara. Cassandra’s eyes went to Varric’s hand on her wrist and she roughly pulled her wrist away from him and huffed. “Speak to the Dwarf, he will tell you, if he does not _lie_ first.” Cassandra turned on her heels and stormed out of the main hall, leaving Varric and Ashara in her wake.

Varric looked after the Seeker leaving, and once she was out of sight, he sighed heavily. “Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair and let his hand drop to his side. “Want to get a drink?” He asked, and Ashara raised an eyebrow.

“Is it too early for that?”

Varric laughed. “Never too early. Come on, Bluebird, we should talk.”

***

They were settled in in one of the tables on the second level of the tavern, two mugs of ale between them, though Varric was significantly drinking more than Ashara was. He hadn’t said much of anything since they had arrived, and Ashara was getting worried. “Varric, I don’t like when you’re quiet. What happened?”

He set his mug down, and stared at it, and did not look up at Ashara. “I ever tell you the story about my own tether?”

“You told me you didn’t have one.”

“Extravagant liar, remember?”

Ashara scoffed, “Alright, then tell me.”

“Possibly the most impossibly brutal feeling I have ever had in my life. It appeared…Maker, it was over 20 years ago now. Hurt like hell, and I thought I was going to die. Of course, I was prone to dramatics then—”

“— _then?_ ”

Varric laughed, “Then and now, but I tried hiding it for a bit. Until I ran into a woman, a smith. When I was near her, it didn’t matter that the mark hurt, she somehow made it…less. I spent 20 years of my life on and off with her. She got married. We still continued to see each other in private. Arranged marriage, you know how that goes. Or, you can assume.”

Ashara took a drink from her own mug, “I never had family to arrange anything for me, Varric.”

“Right. Sorry, Blue, I knew that.” His nose scrunched up a bit, and he shrugged, “Anyway, about two years ago, maybe not quite two years ago, I experienced that pain again. When I finally got a look at it, it was next to my other tether. But this one was different. Stronger. It actually happened in a middle of an interrogation.”

“Varric, what did you do?” Ashara laughed, “Wait, did you fall in love with a jailer?” She leaned forward, her chin in her hands, attentively listening to Varric.

He shook his head, and took another drink, “No, I couldn’t even write that shit if I tried. I was interested though. Even more so when she stabbed a knife through one of my books.”

He looked up at Ashara then and raised an eyebrow.

Confused, Ashara tilted her head to the side, “I’m still not sure what this has to do with Cassan—” She started but stopped. “Wait. _Seriously?_ ”

“Seriously.”

“Okay, I get why you wanted to drink now.” Both lifting their mugs, they unironically cheered as they immediately took long drinks. “So, you have two tethers? Like me?”

“Yeah. Or I did. I do? Shit, it’s confusing.” He rolled up his right sleeve to show two different marks. One was a sword surrounded by beautiful roses and one was a crossbow. The sword was more detailed and intricate than the crossbow, and the crossbow was more faded. He rolled his sleeve back down and rested his other hand over his arm. “The first one started fading a few months ago, but it’s started to hurt. Or it did a few days ago.”

“Does Cassandra know about your tether?”

“No.”

“Then why were you arguing?”

“Because I saw _hers_.”

Silence fell between them, and Ashara dropped her hands to the table, and leaned forward, in a hushed tone, “Is it…”

“Unless you know any other dashing authors around here, or she’s somehow tethered to inanimate objects, yeah, I think it’s me. So, I tried to ask her about it, she got defensive, and covered it up with a cloak before anyone else could see it.”

“And your other one?”

“She’s here. In Skyhold.”

“Who is.”

“Bianca.”

“Your crossbow?”

“No, Blue. The woman who _made_ the crossbow.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, now what?”

Varric sighed and finished his mug and stood up. “Now I introduce her to you, we go check out her lead on the red lyrium, and I get her out of Skyhold. Anything else that I’m not willing to think about will wait until later.”

Ashara took another drink, “We can go there on the way to the Western Approach. Are you ok with that?”

He nodded. “The sooner, the better.”

“Should I ask Cassandra if she wants to tag along?”

Varric just glared at her, and Ashara laughed. She took another drink and smirked, “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

***

A few more drinks at the tavern, and by the mid-day meal Ashara was closer to drunk than she wanted to be so early in the day. But she snuck into the kitchen, chatted up a few of the elves working there, and managed to get a few loafs of bread. Food in her stomach, and another piece of bread in her hand, she thanked the women and headed out through the main hall once more and headed into the rotunda.

Where she was immediately watching another argument, this time between Dorian and Solas.

“Can people stop fighting today? I _really_ don’t want to deal with this right now!” Ashara butted in immediately, and the two men stopped and looked at her.

Dorian raised an eyebrow and put a hand on his hip, “Little bird, are you _drunk_?”

Ashara rolled her eyes, “No! I am _tipsy_ at most, and really, like you’re one to talk.”

He laughed, where Solas stayed quiet and stared. Ashara sighed, “ _What_? What now?”

“We may have found a solution to your problem, but I’m not sure you will like it.”

“What our dear Elven friend is trying to say is that the solution is _there is no solution_ ,” Dorian snapped back, looking at Solas.

“I did not say anything of the sort!”

“Enough! By the Dread Wolf, _shut up!”_ Ashara yelled out, and both men stared at her again. Her anger moved to annoyance and she groaned, “Poor choice of words.” She rubbed at her neck, as she walked closer to the table. “It grew overnight again.” She said, as she lifted her hair to show the mages the new status of it. “So, I don’t care what it is, or if I have to put something on it every two hours, just give me _something_ to work with.”

“It grew?” Solas’ curious tone caught Ashara off guard, “Fascinating. Were you visited in the Fade?”

“No,” She shook her head, “The most I remember is that there was a man, who was decidedly _not_ the Dread Wolf, so I have no idea what is going on. And I don’t remember anything else, it’s like it is being blocked.”

“Varric did mention he worried about your memories,” Dorian added in thoughtfully, “Perhaps all of this is tied together?”

She tapped her fingers against the bread in her hand and pocketed it. “I don’t know. I don’t _care_. All I know is that we need to cover it. Do something. Anything.” She looked to Dorian and Solas, “ _Please_.”

It felt strange to be so at odds with herself, for wanting to remove things that were marks on the left side of her – the anchor, the wolf – and not be bothered by the right that held the lion that she knew had grown over the last few days. Or, maybe it was that she was more bothered by _that one_ than the others. The others she didn’t want. This one…

“We can try to create a stronger salve for now, and I will continue my search for a stronger magic that can help remove it,” Solas said, resigned to her request, and if Ashara was actually paying attention she might have seen a flicker of something in his eyes. But she didn’t.

Instead she nodded her thanks. “I appreciate it. I’m heading to the Western Approach tomorrow – would either of you like to come with me? I’m bringing Varric along too, we have something we need to do for him before we go.”

Solas stood a little straighter, “I can accompany you, Inquisitor. If you don’t mind?”

She nodded, “Of course. Dorian?”

“Skyhold needs at least one dependable mage here, yes? I will stay behind, but I’ll make sure to get you a stronger batch before you head out. Testing it in the field, and all that.”

“Thank you, Dorian. Let me know when it’s ready, and I’ll come and get it from you.”

“Certainly,” He said, bowing to Ashara with a wink before he left to head back up to his room. As Ashara herself was moving to leave, Solas reached out and grabbed her hand.

She turned around to face him, and he let go of her hand and looked at her with concern. “You did not tell me that it happened again,” He said quietly, “I had thought…”

“Had thought what, Solas? Didn’t we discuss there was nothing we can do? I just…I think the anchor is just making everything worse, that’s all.” Ashara shrugged, and shifted her hair on her shoulder more, protecting her mark. “I know you’ll find a solution, and when you do, I’ll be thankful. For now, let’s see what Dorian can do, okay?”

“Yes, Vh—yes, Inquisitor.”

The slip gave her pause, as she looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Are _you_ alright, Solas? Is something bothering you?”

Solas shook his head, “No, I’m sorry my friend. I…just worry about you. That’s all.”

“I’m okay. Really.” She put her hands on his shoulders, “I promise.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.” She smiled, and despite her better judgement, pulled Solas into a hug. He seemed startled at first but returned it in kind.

That was, until a voice cut through the room, “Ah, Inquisitor, I was hoping to – _oh,_ I’m sorry you’re in the middle of something, I can come find you later.” Ashara stepped back from the hug to see Cullen at the door of the rotunda, and he gave a curt nod before heading back out into the main hall.

She had seen his face. His happiness to see her had suddenly disappeared and it was like watching a wall go up between them. Yet, Ashara felt frozen to the floor, unable to move.

“Go,” Solas gently said, nudging her with his hand towards the door. She did not look back as she ran after him out of the door.

The door shut, and Solas looked at it for a long time before moving to sit back in his chair, to return to his reading.

“You will visit her again in the fade, won’t you,” came the compassionate voice, and Solas sighed.

“Cole. Not now.”

***

“Cullen!” Ashara yelled out, trying to get his attention, but when she burst into the main hall, she didn’t see him. The nobles who had gathered looked at her strangely, and she huffed out a breath of air in annoyance, as she turned to see if Varric was in his spot yet. He wasn’t. Most likely still in the tavern, and so Ashara didn’t have anyone to point her in the right direction.

“Shit. _Shit._ ” Swearing at herself, as she bounded down the stairs in the front of Skyhold and ran past anyone who was trying to talk to her. She checked the tavern first, but he wasn’t there. Then, she ran up the stairs to his office, but he wasn’t there either. The stables? No. The practice area outside the gates? No.

She couldn’t get the image out of her head, of Cullen’s sad look before he seemed to turn to stone and walk out. It was just a hug, why was she getting so worked up over explaining this to him?

This damn tether, it was going to be the death of her if she wasn’t careful. She knew it.

She thought of a few other places to look, and ended up running into Cassandra before entering into the

“Inquisitor! You seem to be in a rush, is everything okay?”

“Yes, I…uh, have you seen the Commander? I have to speak to him about something.” Ashara cleared her throat, worried her lip. Cassandra looked sympathetic, but Ashara had seen that look from her before. It was far different from the anger she had spilled at Varric earlier.

“I believe I saw him heading for the garden?” She gestured behind her, and Ashara’s eyes lit up. Of course! Why didn’t she think of that?

“Thank you! I should—"

“—wait! Before you go, I…I would like to accompany you to the Western Approach tomorrow.” Cassandra wrung her hands together carefully. “If you would allow it?”

Ashara’s face fell slightly. “We’ll be doing something for Varric in the Hinterlands before we go. Are you two going to be okay to work together?”

Cassandra looked…embarrassed? Well that was a new look. The Seeker nodded. “Yes, I know, I wish to help him.”

“Oh. Maybe speak to him about it? I don’t mind if you come, but he might.” Why everything seemed to be so layered today, she didn’t know the reason why. But Cassandra was an adult and could speak to Varric. Just as Ashara was hoping that Cullen would still want to speak to her.

“I will. I believe I heard he was in the tavern,” Cassandra started, and Ashara nodded.

“Yes. But you might want to bring something to sober him up first. I need to go. But we’ll talk later?”

“Of course, Inquisitor.” Cassandra nodded, “Good luck with Cullen, he is a good man.” The comment was added with a smile on her lips as Cassandra headed for the tavern, and Ashara looked confused. But it wasn’t really anything she wanted to dwell on.

She headed for the gardens.

***

The gardens were not as packed as she had expected it to be, but it was still populated enough that it took a moment for her to spot him. But she did, sitting at the chess table by himself, staring at the board in front of him. She approached, expecting her footsteps to alert him to her presence, but he was just focused on the chess board.

“Want company?” Ashara asked as she finally approached him, and he startled, looking up at her with a surprised look and went to stand up.

“Inquisitor, I—”

For some reason, when he used her title now, it stung. It felt like moving backwards. “Please, sit. You don’t need to stand every time I’m around you,” She cleared her throat again as she sat at the empty seat at the table. “Do you play?”

He settled back into his seat, and leaned forward, “Yes. I played a lot with my siblings when I was younger.”

“Play me.”

“What?”

“Play me. We can put a wager on it too, if you’d like.”

Cullen frowned. “I don’t know if that is appropriate.”

Ashara sighed. “Cullen, hasn’t the line of what is _appropriate_ already been crossed?” She raised an eyebrow towards him, but instead of the amusement she expected, she saw guilt and regret. Fuck. “Can you talk to me? Tell me what is on your mind?”

“I apologize for interrupting you and Solas earlier, Inquisitor.” His voice was quiet, and he did not look her in the eye. She swallowed hard.

“Please stop calling me that. I thought…” She didn’t hide the hint of hurt in her voice, despite knowing that she should have, and Cullen looked to meet her eyes. “I thought we were past the titles.”

He stayed silent, and he did not move. Was he expecting her to say something else? If she was him, she’d expect that. She sighed. “Solas is a friend. Nothing more. He was worried about me, and I was giving him a hug to prove I was alright. That was what you saw. There was nothing to interrupt.”

“Ah.”

“Ah?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. She caught into that nervous tick, knowing what it meant now, and she worried her lip a little. “I had thought that…” he started, and shook his head, frustrated. “I should not have made assumptions. About anyone, truthfully.” He moved his hand to the board and picked up one of the pieces.

Ashara took the risk, in the garden with others seeing them, as she reached over the table and put her hand over his. He seemed startled by the small action and looked at her with some surprise in his eyes. But he steeled the rest of his features. “Ashara,” he quietly warned, knowing there were some eyes on them.

“I don’t care, Cullen. I had meant what I said the other night. We should spend some more time together. I’m only interested in you.” She said and gave his hand a squeeze. The look on his face went from surprise to a small allowance of happiness. She smiled in return.

Ashara took her hand back, as she settled more into the chair in front of her. “Set the board, Cullen. Let’s see how good you are.”

His small smile broke into a far more earnest one, and he nodded, “As you wish,” as he set the board up for them to play. “I am too, for the record.”

“What?”

Cullen’s lips curled into a smirk, as he leaned back in his chair, “Interested.”

***

They had left Skyhold the following morning, Ashara bidding goodbye to those that stayed behind, and took a moment to say goodbye to Cullen personally. “I look forward to seeing you again, Cullen,” she had said quietly, and his reply had been a bright, “I look forward to your return,” before telling her to be safe. She hadn’t been sure what she was expecting with Cullen but taking it slow – or slower _now_ considering how things had been – had been a nice change.

But it was off to the Hinterlands for Varric before they made their journey to the Western Approach to see Hawke and Stroud. It would be a long journey, and she didn’t know how many weeks that she’d be away. As promised, before she left Dorian gave her the stronger salve to be used to cover the tether behind her ear, and there was no better place to try it out than the Hinterlands first.

Solas had helped apply the salve to her mark, and Varric and Cassandra had watched their backs, just to make sure no one came across them and questioned what they were doing. Glamoring tethers and covering them was not unheard of, but it was her mark they all knew might cause some issues. While Varric and Cassandra did not fully understand the weight behind it, Ashara knew Solas did.

In fact, as he applied the salve, he seemed to be incredibly careful. Moving slowly to make sure the salve was fully covering every inch of the mark and making sure it was covered before he said he was mostly satisfied with the application. “I will tell you when it needs to be re-applied,” he had said, and the salve was quickly put back into her things.

She could feel the magic working, blending with her skin to cover, and once the magic stopped tingling, she knew it had worked. At least for now, this would be a true test until they could find a more permanent solution.

But that quickly turned into the least of their problems once they had gone to help Bianca with the ‘leak.’

And there they were, standing by the door she just closed, and Ashara found herself angry on behalf of Varric, but her anger wasn’t even close to the look that Cassandra was giving Bianca.

“Varric,” Bianca started, and he just dismissably waved a hand at her.

“You better go, Bianca. Before someone misses you.” And as Varric walked off, Bianca moved to follow him. Cassandra immediately stood in Bianca’s way.

“I think it is best you leave him alone now.” The Seeker glared at the woman, and Bianca crossed her arms over her chest.

“Do you think I’m scared of you? He’ll come back. He always does.”

Ashara felt Solas’ hand on her shoulder, and she shook her head. She nodded towards where Varric had gone, and Solas nodded, going to follow after the other man. Ashara turned back to Cassandra and Bianca, who were in what seemed to be a standoff.

“Not this time,” Cassandra said, her hands on her hips, and before Bianca could say anything, Ashara stepped in.

“Cassandra, let’s go.”

“Inquisitor, you take care of Va—”

It was a poor choice of words, as Cassandra turned around quickly, and stared at Bianca, “No. You do not get to say his name. Not anymore. If you come near us again—”

“—what, you’ll kill me?”

Cassandra just rolled her eyes, and left the room, leaving Ashara with Bianca. But Ashara didn’t say anything, she simply just shook her head in disappointment and left, leaving Bianca alone and to her own devices.

When she left the room and back out into the path, Varric was talking quietly with Cassandra, and he seemed to be nodding in agreement to something she said. They spoke for a bit more, before Varric called her over. “Let’s go, Bluebird. We have a long way to travel, right?”

She nodded and let Varric lead the way out. Once they were out of the ruins, she kept behind Varric and Cassandra, letting them speak in private – or as much as traveling in a group would allow – and she walked alongside Solas.

“It appears there may be something there,” Solas said thoughtfully. Both Solas and Ashara were prone to use their staffs as walking sticks, and were doing exactly that now, walking in tune with each other.

“I know. Which, is weird considering they fight each other at every turn.”

“It is passion that does it, and denial.”

“Well as long as their passionate denial doesn’t upset the balance we have going here, then it doesn’t bother me. I just want them both to be happy.” It made her wonder if Varric was going to tell Cassandra about his tether. What Cassandra would to when she found out. There was a chance that it might go well, but there was an even larger chance it might go poorly.

Solas chuckled, “Perhaps they will be. They are adults, I imagine they can make the right choice.”

Ashara smirked, “Sometimes, mistakes are what bring us together.”

Solas’ reply was just a shake of his head, and a shrug.

They reached their camp without issue, and mounted up to get going. It would be a long travel to the Western Approach, and they had to make up for lost time.

***

On the second week on the road, they were camped outside of the Western Approach. They would reach it by the next day, but they had all grown weary and needed to rest. There was no saying what the Western Approach would bring, and it was better to do that with a calm mind and rested body.

Which was to say, no one was able to sleep, and everyone was pacing around on their own.

Cassandra and Varric were sharing a tent, and Solas and Ashara were sharing the other. Their horses were set up nearby, and a fire was lit. Cassandra was taking the watch of the camp, as Solas had gone off to gather more Elfroot and other herbs they needed. Varric was sitting in front of the fire, staring at his arm, his sleeve rolled up.

“Would you look at that,” came the mutter, low enough that Ashara almost didn’t hear it.

“Hmm?” She got up and moved to sit next to Varric, and glanced at his arm. What she saw…well, it was more what she _didn’t_ see.

“It’s gone,” Varric’s voice was one of surprise, as he ran his fingers over where his crossbow tether had been before. “I can’t feel anything, there’s…” He looked up to Ashara, “Blue, there’s nothing here. No connection, nothing. Shit. This is… _weird_.”

“I thought the weird shit only happened to me,” Ashara faked being offended, and Varric chuckled.

“Apparently not.”

“Solas might be able to see if the connection is still there. He’s traveled a lot, maybe he picked up on—”

“Nah,” Varric dismissed, “Honestly, I don’t want to know. I just need to be done. It’s been…shit, it’s been over a decade and a half, I think I need to just be honest with myself. Now that I feel like I can.” His eyes went back to his arm, and stared at the other tether, the sword and roses, far more detailed than the last time Ashara had seen it in the tavern a few weeks before.

He rolled his sleeve back down and rested his hands on his knees.

“Have you told her yet?” Ashara nudged her shoulder with his own. He shook his head. “No. But…” He looked up over the fire to see Solas and Cassandra returning to the camp. “…maybe I should.”

Varric stood up and walked over to Cassandra and nodded, “Seeker? Think I could speak to you privately?”

She raised an eyebrow towards him and looked to Ashara.

“It’s my turn to watch the camp anyway, Cass. You two go talk.”

Cassandra nodded and turned for the tent. Varric looked to Ashara and mouthed _thank you_ before going into the tent after her.

Grabbing her staff, Ashara moved to take point at the camp where Cassandra had been and found Solas joining her shortly after. They were silent for a long time, and it was something Ashara appreciated. Solas didn’t always require conversation, and Ashara did value the quiet time. It was rare that she felt comfortable with someone in the silence – so far, the only other person she felt that way around had been Cullen.

The thought made her heart hurt slightly, and she felt her lion tether tingle a little bit at the thought of him. She missed him. She could tell.

“Will they be alright?” Solas asked, his eyes looking at Cassandra and Varric’s tent, where nothing had been heard.

Ashara chuckled, “Yeah. I’m just hoping that she is okay with what he’s telling her. _If_ he can manage to tell her without weaving a story.”

Solas looked to Ashara with confusion, and she continued, “He had two tethers. After what happened with Bianca, one of them completely disappeared. As if it was never there.”

“Disappeared?” His interest had been peaked, and he raised an eyebrow. “How is that possible?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It happened after Bianca betrayed him though. Maybe that severed the connection?”

“Perhaps. But I have never seen anything like that before.”

“Well, you had also never known for someone to have two tethers before. And not only do I have two, but Varric did too. Doesn’t that mean that anything is possible?”

“I suppose.”

“Maybe betrayal is the option.”

Solas leaned on his staff and looked over Ashara with concern on his face. “You want to betray who you’re tethered to?”

“Only the one I have confirmed,” Ashara said, her hand resting on her neck

His eyes went slightly darker for a moment, and he sighed, “How do you expect to do that?”

“I don’t know. I…have to try something, right?”

“Be careful. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“It’s not like he’s a real god anyway, right? You told me that.”

“I did not think you believed me.”

“I trust you, Solas.” She said with a soft smile, a hand resting on his shoulder before she removed it. She soon sighed after, “But you’re right. I wouldn’t even know where to start, because all I have for interactions is him guiding me, and then always being on the edge of my dreams since I was a child. I don’t have anything else to go on.”

He stayed silent, only nodding, and looking away from Ashara. But the silence was not comfortable. She felt as though she offended him, but she wasn’t sure how she did that.

“Perhaps you should go rest. I can watch the remainder of the night.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, and he nodded.

“If something happens, I will wake you.”

“Okay.” She nodded and headed for their tent, trying to shake the strange feeling she had. Unrolling her bedroll, she pulled back the small sheet and got underneath it, hoping for a quick rest before their trip continued.

***

Her eyes opened to a sight she hadn’t seen since she was a young girl. A large tree, impossible in height, under the star filled night sky. Under the tree was another tree, fallen on the ground. A lake that was never ending, and a horizon that didn’t seem _quite_ real.

When she approached it, the tree felt like coming home. Magic flowed around her, and the movement of gentle spirits reminded her of where she was. The fade. The one place that had given her comfort when she felt lost.

Was she feeling lost now? Was that why she was here? She hadn’t been here since the Conclave, since the Inquisition. She had _felt_ lost before but didn’t need this place, or she would have come here. So why was she here now?

She reached out and touched the tree trunk and looked up to it’s welcoming branches and smiled. She reached to the first one, and pulled herself up, and started to climb as high as she could go.

Satisfied with the height she reached, she sat up on the branch and put her hands on either side of her. She inhaled deeply, and closed her eyes as she exhaled, a calm smile on her face. This had been such a good source of calm and happiness for her; why had she stopped coming here?

Suddenly, she felt the air around her change. The magic became stronger, _older_. The spirits who had come to join her disappeared. She slowly opened her eyes at the change. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the wisp of Compassion paying attention quietly but did not move from their perch on a branch near her.

Footsteps came closer. Not of a person, but something larger. Her heart beat faster, squeezing her eyes shut once more, until the footsteps came to a stop. She could feel the air shifting again, settling next to her. When she opened her eyes, she was face to face with the Dread Wolf’s large form in front of her.

This was the first time she could remember ever facing him – other than in the cave after Haven. She had thought that when she met him in the Fade, if she ever did, she’d be scared.

He stared at her, and she stared back. Instead of being scared, she just scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Surprise, you’re real. Can I help you?” Her tone was one of annoyance, as she let herself fall off the top tree branch and swing herself all the way to the bottom.

He did not speak, instead he just looked down at her, his large form more than towering over her own.

“ _You’re different.”_ He finally said, in ancient Elven, and she wasn’t sure why she understood that.

“ _I don’t speak Elven.”_ She replied, and then her eyes went wide. “ _Wait, I speak Elven?”_

The Dread Wolf _laughed_ and Ashara glared. It only made him laugh more.

“ _Young one, there is much you do not know.”_

_“Yeah, I get that. Is there a reason you’re here?”_

_“We knew each other. Once.”_

_“I find that hard to believe-“_

_“-before the Conclave.”_

Ashara reached the bottom of the tree and her feet landed on solid ground. She looked up to him, and looked a little shocked. “ _I don’t remember what happened before the Conclave. I don’t remember anything.”_

_“Shame. I quite enjoyed our time together.”_

The air shifted around them, and Ashara found herself shocked to find a man in front of her. Long brown hair, pulled back into a ponytail, hair shaved at the sides. He wore a silver wolf mask covering all of his face, though his eyes were clear to see. He wore wolf pelt, and intricate armor that shone in the moonlight. His hands were behind his back as he approached her, and leaned forward towards her to get a better look. “Yes, you’ve changed quite a bit.” His tone seemed almost sad, switching to Common tongue.

He reached out with a gloved hand to touch her neck, and Ashara reflectively stepped back. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“This… _you_ have caused me nothing but pain my entire life. Don’t make it worse on me than it already is.”

“Worse than the anchor you bear? The lion you see grow?”

Her eyes went wide, “How do you know…”

“I know more than you think that I do.”

He took a step towards her, and she took another step back.

“Once, you did not fear me. You challenged me. You were by my side.” His tone seemed wistful, hopeful. As if he was trying to jog her memory, but nothing happened.

“I don’t fear you. I hate you.” But she held onto her arm, fingers touching the lion tether as if it might bring her comfort.

He noticed this and glanced at her arm. But he did not say anything to her gesture. He moved towards the lake, looking out of it. “You don’t hate me. You just do not understand. When you remember, you’ll know.”

Anger flared in her eyes, “No shit, if I remember, I’ll know! That is the whole point of _remembering_ , which I can’t! And now you’re here, in one of my safe places, and now I have to find a way for you to lose my scent.” Her hands dropped, “And, since I have this fucking _tether_ to you, I can’t!” She was angry. Pissed off. Not wanting to be anywhere near him.

He turned his head towards her, “I do not want any harm to come to you. You can trust me.”

“ _Trust_ you? Do you even know who you _are_?”

“I believe I know who I am far better than you do, Bluebird.”

Ashara swallowed hard, “Do not call me that. That is not a name for you to use.”

“Who do you think _gave you_ that name?”

“Stop!” She paced away from him, towards the large fallen tree and sat down. She ran a hand over her face, and frustratedly screamed out. “What do you want from me?”

Walking towards her again, the Elven man sat down on the log, but he did not sit close to her. Respecting her boundaries, which she bitterly laughed at. “I want you to trust me, that I am here to help you. Just as you are here to help me.”

“Help you? What?”

“I’ll explain later.”

“Oh great. More riddles and no answers, you’re forever helpful,” but as she spoke, the words felt familiar. Like something she had said before, in this exact spot. She swallowed hard.

He chuckled, and a cold shiver ran down her spine.

“I can teach you how to cover your mark. You won’t need to use this,” He gestured with his hand, and the salve from her bag appeared in his hand. She reached out for it, but he held it away from her grasp. “Do you trust me to teach you?”

Her mind was telling her no. But she, to her surprise, replied, “Yes.” Why did she do that?

“Give me your hand,” He said, as he gestured, and the salve was gone and he held out both of his hands. She hesitated, and shifted closer to him, and put her hands in his own.

His eyes glowed bright white, and she closed her eyes. She could feel the magic moving from him to her, feel the knowledge being transferred to her. When her eyes opened, she knew the spell, and was shocked to have that realization. At her surprise, he tilted his head. “What did you do to me?”

“I returned the knowledge that you knew.”

“I…already knew this? How?”

Fen’Harel reached out to touch her cheek, and he did it in such a tender way that Ashara felt frozen. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he sighed.

“I will explain another time. But for now, you must _wake up_.”

***

Her eyes flew open and focused on the top of the tent she was in. The sun was starting to come through the thin material, and she could hear what sounded like Cassandra getting ready outside of the tent. Ashara sat up and sighed heavily, putting her hand over her heart as she tried to calm herself.

On the other side of the tent, she saw Solas still sleeping soundly, his back to her.

Ashara inhaled sharply and stood up, quietly dressing back into her armor, Her hand reached into her bag for the salve, but as she took it out, she hesitated.

Did she trust what she saw in the Fade? Did she trust what happened? It had felt like she _knew_ the magic, but was it a trick? It had come from Fen’Harel, after all. The Rebel God, if he was one, was not to be trusted.

But in the quiet of the tent, she softly whispered the ancient words she seemed to know so well, and ran her hand over her neck. A soft blue glow came as she cast the spell, lighting up her corner of the tent, and she worried for a moment that she would awaken Solas.

When she saw he did not, she sighed in relief. She put her things back in her bag, and exited the tent to greet Cassandra.

What she did not see, when she left the tent, was Solas’ eyes were open and his lips had curled into a smile.

*******

> Leilana,
> 
> We are returning to Skyhold. The Western Approach was worse than expected. We met up with Hawke and Stroud, we found Wardens in the Approach doing a ritual -- blood magic ritual, with a Venatori magister leading them. Nothing about this is good. A full detailed report will be coming soon.
> 
> Send your scouts ahead to Adamant Fortress. I need to know what is going to be waiting for us; we must go confront the Grey Wardens.
> 
> We will return in three weeks. Please help to see that everything is ready for us to immediately leave at once.
> 
> Kindly make sure these other letters get to their intended recipients. I’ll tell you more when I return.
> 
> \- Ashara

\--

> Dorian,
> 
> I need to speak with you immediately when I return. Something happened out here.
> 
> Get the wine ready. And please tell me you have some good gossip because I need the distraction.
> 
> -Ashara

\--

> Cullen,
> 
> I have started and stopped this letter more times than I can count. We’re headed back to Skyhold. Leilana has the full report, but what we found is not good. You and I will talk more about our plan moving forward. But that’s not why I’m writing you.
> 
> Something happened recently, and I found myself coming out the other side of it scared. I’ve told you that there isn’t a lot that I remember before the Conclave, and I may have been given a glimpse on what I’m not remembering. If I can even believe or trust the source. I don’t know if I can. But I’m scared that if it’s real, that I’m going to start finding out things I won’t like. That you won’t like.
> 
> _That_ is what scares me more than I want to admit. Though, I just admitted it now, in this letter, for you to read so…whatever that means.
> 
> I hope this doesn’t put pressure on you, but what helped me get through this last week was thinking of you. Is that strange? Like I could feel you close to me, telling me that no matter what, things will work out. It’s hard to explain.
> 
> There is something that I need to tell you. Want to tell you. But it needs to be in person.
> 
> I’ll see you when I return to Skyhold. Until then, take care.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Ashara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're starting to get into the meat of things :) Hope you're enjoying this story! Plenty of updates to come since I cannot stop writing and I'm already over 55,000 words so....buckle up we're going to be here for a long time! The next chapter was one of my favorites to dig into, so I may post that a bit early.


	7. Chapter 7

They didn’t get a chance to speak privately before they were off to Adamant Fortress. In fact, the Inquisitor and her team never made it back to Skyhold. It was deemed easier to head straight there, and once Leilana received the missives from Ashara, Cullen met with Josephine and Leilana to plan their next moves. Their army was prepared, and they shipped out.

The camp outside of the Fortress was well hidden from the Gray Warden view, but it wouldn’t be long until they were noticed. When Cullen had arrived, it was to find Ashara and her party already engaged with some demons outside of the fortress; it wasn’t a good sign.

Ashara looked tired and worn down. It wasn’t a look he had seen in her before, but he didn’t get the chance to speak to her. They had to get into the fortress and fast – one of Leilana’s scouts announced that what was being called the ‘final ritual’ was starting, and they needed to get into the fortress now.

The Inquisitor agreed to it, if not seeming a bit weary, but ready to go into battle.

He wanted to help her but knew where his role was needed best. So, he led the charge, and gave the orders.

As always, she went running head first into danger.

They broke through the front gates, and Solas, Dorian, Cassandra, and Varric went charging in. Ashara followed behind them, as they started to attach the onslaught of demons and corrupted Wardens. When the push through was clear, and they could move forward, the others moved ahead and Ashara held back for the briefest of moments.

“Inquisitor, we need to clear the battlements, our soldiers are not able to get a clear footing. Help clear those out, and our soldiers can do the rest.”

“Understood, Commander,” She replied to him, and offered a weak smile. He could see how tired she was. He had been there before. She turned to leave and head off in the direction needed, but he called out to her, “Wait,” and held onto her right arm. 

She stopped and turned around, looking at his hand before looking to him. “Be careful,” she said before he could get it out, and he nodded. “You too.”

She slid her wrist out, so her hand was touching his for a small moment, and in that touch, she smiled a little brighter. She seemed more like herself. Ashara winked at him, and she was off and running.

Cullen found himself stunned, but he couldn’t allow himself to be that way for long. He took out his sword and held it high, “Onward!” And the soldiers cried out in kind.

At one point, as they got further into the fortress, Cullen and Ashara were fighting back to back. It wasn’t at all what Cullen had expected. He had fought against mages, he had fought _with_ them, but this felt…different. He was cutting off those in front of him, she was blasting them with fire in front of her. They would move in a circle, their backs to each other, as she ricocheted lightning from demon to demon, and he was cutting them off at the neck.

A demonic laugher cut through the air, and the emergence of a large Pride demon appeared, lumbering towards the party with its electric whip ready to strike. The sudden call out of, “Cullen! Shield! Bull, Horns!” from the Inquisitor gave him pause, but he turned around to see Ashara running towards him, her hair wild behind her, full charge with her staff.

He leaned his shield down and she ran and jumped on top of it, and Cullen pushed upwards, shooting her in the air towards Iron Bull.

Bull angled himself in her direction, and she took a hold of one of his horns, using the momentum to spin her out towards the Pride demon, flying towards it in the air.

Those in the party, after killing the few that were around them, stopped in shock as they watched the Inquisitor fly, screaming.

Cullen watched with wide eyes as she called a giant fist of magic – “Veilstrike,” he quietly heard Solas say in a strange tone of admiration -- and slammed it into the Pride demon, just before she landed on his back. The demon stumbled back, a significant blow, but then she then cast something else – he heard a gasp from Dorian, “What the--” – and jumped off the Pride demon’s back. Cullen caught Solas and Dorian exchanging a look he didn’t quite understand.

With a flick of her wrist, Ashara activated something within the demon, and it exploded and disappeared into dust. The demon gone, she was breathing hard and looked up to all of them staring at her.

“What!?” She asked, exasperated, as a scout called out to the party.

“Inquisitor, they’ve almost completed the ritual!”

“Alright, let’s get going! Commander, keep them off our backs!” She called out as she gestured to the corrupted Wardens and Rage demons coming to follow them.

Cullen didn’t shout an agreement, it was just understood, and he would get the job done. He always would at her command.

Corypheus's dragon took flight over them, and as Cullen and the army stayed to take control of the demon the Wardens pulled through the rift before it was closed, Ashara and her party took off running after Clarel, determined to help her stop the dragon.

Those who were still under Corypheus’ command followed after Ashara, and Cullen took the charge to follow and kill those who aimed to hurt the Inquisitor and her party.

They reached the edge, seeing the dragon pick up Clarel and toss her to the side like a ragdoll, but the Warden was determined to go out fighting. Cullen and those with him advanced to help, but Clarel gave out a final magical burst to destroy the dragon. It went falling, the walkway under those at the edge falling away, and Cullen watched in horror as not only the dragon and Clarel fell over the edge, but Ashara did as well.

And for the second time, Cullen had to wonder if she was dead.

A crackle of green light exploded beneath the castle, and then closed. The rubble was falling faster, and Cullen hastily barked out an order to get moving, get away from the edge and back from the edge.

As he made his run for it, suddenly there was a sharp pain around his heart, and the world around him went black as the Commander fell to the stone floor hard.

***

He wasn’t dead. He could tell that much, because somewhere, he could still feel his beating heart. But at the same time, it felt so far away. Distant. His eyes opened, but it seemed like he was seeing a play out in front of him. It felt like an out of body experience.

This was unlike anything he had ever seen before, and he found himself drifting through the air until he saw her.

Ashara.

She was on the ground, pushing herself up, but she was alive. He felt like he could soar, but he was stuck in one place. Her voice was clear as a bell though, “Where are we?” She asked, and he tried to answer but found he had no voice.

She turned and walked towards him but walked right through him.

What was going on?

“Inquisitor, thank the Maker you’re alright,” Cassandra spoke, as others in the Inquisitor’s party came out from where they were. All of them were there. All of them were alive.

“What happened?” Dorian asked, and Ashara shrugged.

She looked at her hand, and then looked around, “I think…I think we’re in the Fade.”

“Physically? How…” Varric started, and Solas sighed.

“The anchor on her hand. It must have guided us.”

“First, you’ve got magic I’ve never seen you use before, and now we’re in the Fade? Ashara, you are _full_ of surprises,” Dorian sighed, as they moved forward.

Cullen watched, or rather, felt like he was floating along the group, and for a moment was beside Ashara. The back of her neck was glowing a brilliant blue, something she seemed to be aware of because she kept pulling her hair to the side. When in the heat of battle in the fortress she had let her hair out and wild behind her, now she was back to restraining it. Hiding pieces of herself.

She broke off from the others to go examine something, but Cullen couldn’t tell what it was. Something was blocking him.

_It appears we have a special guest with us,_ came the demonic voice. Cullen looked around to see if the others had noticed, but they were off away from him, speaking to…what looked like the Divine. _Cullen Rutherford, how nice of you to visit me. I am usually the one who visits you._

He frantically turned around but saw nothing. He looked back to where Ashara and the other had been, but they were gone.

His feet were not on the ground, but he still felt like he was running. Unarmed and unarmored, he moved through the Fade, feeling a pull.

Ancient words came to his ears, but it was unlike anything he had heard before. The voice was familiar, calming, and he moved towards it.

_Come with me_ , the spirit said, _You are lost. But you will be found. You must come with me_.

Cullen tried once more to speak, but he could not.

_Yes, I understand you. Quickly. We are in Nightmare’s lair._

The spirit moved quickly, and Cullen followed, floating quickly through the air, and soon was with the rest of the group. He went to move towards Ashara, but the kind spirit stopped him.

_No, she must remember. You need to see._

Familiar voices were calling through the air, replays of memories of the Conclave. The voice of the Divine, the voice of Ashara. The voices stopped and Ashara called out in anguish. She fell to her knees, holding onto her staff to keep her upright, and Cullen watched as Solas ran to her side to help her up.

He couldn’t hear what the elven mage was saying, but Ashara turned and looked at him, and he took a step back from her, looking alarmed for the smallest of moments.

_She is scared. It pulls her in many directions. Which way is safe? Is he safe?_

The kind spirit nudged Cullen’s form, to move him along, as they followed through, the Inquisitor battling more demons, the embodiment of rage, pride, and regret.

He wanted to know what was going on. Why he was seeing this. Why he was here. Was he dead? He had to be dead. This wasn’t…

_This is real. She is real. You are real._

She called out in pain again, another memory restored, but the voices weren’t one Cullen knew. They spoke a language he didn’t know. The others seemed confused, but Ashara looked…worried. She closed her eyes.

_Will he think of me differently? Will I remember this?_ The spirit repeats in Cullen’s ears, and he should be terrified of all of this, but he’s not.

He hears the booming voice of Nightmare as it taunts everyone, but he can’t quite make out the words. He’s not meant to hear the taunting. It’s not meant for him. He can’t fight along side them as more demons come to attack. More nightmare fragments.

More rage, regret, sorrow.

They have reached Nightmare’s lair. He knows this because he can feel it. He can feel the fear radiating off of himself, even if he is not physically there. He can feel the others getting scared. He hears Hawke and Stroud arguing, and Varric telling them both to shut up. Tension is high.

The spirit posing as Justina promises to help them through. They need to fight.

The rift to Thedas is behind the giant nightmare spider, and the battle will be long.

Ashara takes a deep breath. She tries to hide her fear. She closes her eyes and mutters something. He cannot make out the words.

She touches her right forearm, and when she does, Cullen feels his chest heat up. He hears her voice clearly.

She says, _“_ Cullen, I will come back.”

He is overcome with emotion, he tries to speak, he wants to speak.

He goes to her side and tries.

_“_ You will,” He says, the words come out, and she opens her eyes and looks right at him. She gasps, and her features change. She nods, and with the others runs into battle.

The kind spirit returns and pulls him back. _You must return. You cannot stay here._

Cullen tries to speak, but once more he cannot. The kind spirit pushes him back, and suddenly Cullen is falling. The sensation overwhelms as he falls through the stone on the floor and falls deep into the darkness below and everything disappears.

He disappears.

***

He is home.

Not in Skyhold, but he is home. He is a young boy, and he is trying to hide his black eye from his sister.

Mia scolds him but comforts him. “You keep getting into trouble,” she says, but there isn’t any hint of disappointment.

_I want to be a templar_ , he says, and she nods. She knows. She always knows. He will be one, because he’s stubborn and determined, and he wants to prove himself. He wants to be so much more than he is.

***

He’s fighting himself. It’s a constant battle that he never wins, but he keeps it up anyway. He wants to be better than he is, but he doesn’t want to lose himself.

_I should be taking it._

But he doesn’t.

_I should be taking it._

But he can’t.

_I should be taking it._

He demands Cassandra find someone else for the position. She won’t. This isn’t the first time he asks her. It won’t be the last. But he wants to be better. He has a reason now.

His reason is frustrating and demanding, sarcastic and terrifying, powerful and independent, beautiful and fierce.

But the breach is not closed, and the sky is not healed, and there is much work to be done.

***

The nightmares happen every single night. It is hard, but he learns to survive on two or three hours of sleep. Never more. Sometimes less. It is easier to escape into the horrors of reality than the horrors of his memories so he prefers to be awake.

He sometimes wonders if he should try to get more sleep. But he’s too scared, he’s actually _scared_ of what would happen if he got lost in a nightmare and never woke up. He had seen it happen before. Too many recruits would go to sleep, and not wake up.

Vowing to himself long ago he would not go out that way, the nightmares were also proof that he was still alive. That he could fight back in his dreams, but startle awake. To keep fighting.

It was hard to fight now. He felt weak.

He wanted to sleep. It had been so long since he had slept.

***

He sees her fighting her way through enemies. But it’s not an enemy he knows. She moves silent in the night, a mask on her face, a hood over her head.

She moves gracefully, as if she’s dancing. She dodges the arrows and knives and throws a spell at one of the men fighting against her. The magic is electric as it embeds itself in its target, and with a flick of her wrist, the magic detonates. The man falls, dead.

He’s observing again, but this isn’t now. This is a memory. This isn’t his memory. He knows this, but he doesn’t know how he knows it is hers.

She moves to the man’s body and loots it but is angry.

_The amulet is not here,_ she hisses out, and looks to her companion. It is a man, an elf. Not a man, a boy. The boy worries, _I was told he had it, I promise you, I swear on—_

She stands up and approaches him. She has no staff, but she wields magic all the same. _You do not get to swear on the false gods,_ and beneath her mask, she grins wickedly. The boy is killed, a magic fist coming from the dark of the woods and slamming him into the ground.

She burns both bodies.

He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this memory.

The woman takes the mask off, but he does not see her face. He does not need to.

He feels sorrow.

***

He’s fighting against the disorder, and he’s fighting the demons. He’s fighting the blood mages and does not care that he is killing them. This is an abomination. They are an abomination. They must be put down.

Magic is unholy, he is told. It is to be feared.

He corrects and tells himself that _blood magic_ is bad. Not all magic is.

He tells himself that not all mages are bad. He tells himself this as he takes down the evil ones, because he doesn’t want to be on the other side. He doesn’t want to hear that all Templars are bad, as he is killed.

He doesn’t want to die, so he acts in self-defense.

The lyrium is strong, but he is not stronger yet.

He is overcome with regrets. Regret will always be his strongest emotion.

***

_Please wake up,_ he hears the soft voice. It is so close to him. It is so real. It pulls at him, brings him up from the depths of the darkness that he has been falling in.

_I came back, and you have to come back. Please._

He feels himself being pulled up more, and his head feels above water. But the weight of the darkness is grabbing at him. Strings around his ankles are pulling him down, and he feels himself sinking.

He tries to scream, but he can’t. He struggles. He silently begs.

He tells himself he doesn’t want to die, he wants….he wants…

_I know you were there with me. I don’t know how._ The voice is louder, stronger, he recognizes it. _I know you helped me through. You need…I need you to come back._

What does he need to come back to? The thoughts are confused in his mind, jumbled. The pull on his ankles are strong, and he feels himself going under. His eyes close, the world goes darker.

_You need to come back to me._

His eyes fly open, and he struggles against the pull down. He propels himself forward, to push himself above the water, above the darkness. To her.

A jolt to his chest turns his vision white, and he doesn’t remember where he is anymore.

***

His eyes open. Slowly, Sunlight is coming through stained glass windows, and there is a cold mountain breeze coming through. He tries to move, and he can, but it hurts. He groans, a sound escaping his lips and he feels as if he hasn’t been able to speak in so long.

“Cullen?” Comes the voice, and he feels the bed under him shift with the weight of someone sitting next to him. He’s in a bed. “Cullen, are you…”

His throat feels dry, and he turns to see who is speaking to him, and he sees her. Ashara. Her hair is down, not tied to the side. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days. But she looks relieved. She starts to cry.

“You’re here, you…came back.”

He tries to say something, but his throat is so dry. She sees this, and reaches for a water glass. “Come, sit up, let me help you,” and she helps him get to a seated position on the bed. His back is resting against pillows, and she helps him drink. “Does that help?”

“Yes,” he says finally, but he isn’t sure this is real. The surroundings start to become clear to him, and he knows this isn’t his room. This is Skyhold. This is…this is the Inquisitor’s quarters.

Ashara sits up closer to him, one leg tucked under her. He’s in the middle of the bed, he is under her covers. There are sheets on the couch in the room, a pillow. She’s taken residence there. He looks at her questioning.

“A lot happened, you’ve been…it’s been a week, Cullen, we…” Her voice is overcome with emotion, “We didn’t think you’d come back.” She reaches for his hand and holds onto it.

“How…” He carefully starts, as he tries to get his bearings, “I remember you falling.”

“We don’t know exactly what happened to you, but Dorian thinks you were poisoned by one of the corrupted Wardens.” Her eyes dart down, “Or we thought that was what happened.” He watches her focus on their hands. Her long sleeves are deep blue, and he looks at his own wrist to see it bare. He looks further up his arm to see it is also bare.

The realization hits that he is shirtless, and he panics. His hand moves to his heart, and it’s painful. The mark above it, it’s raw. It’s sore. He doesn’t say anything, but he refuses to look at Ashara.

The weight of the bed shifts, as she gets up and goes to her dresser. She brings back a hand mirror, and she hands it over to him. She doesn’t say anything, but she sits back beside him.

Cullen holds the hand mirror in his hand, and closes his eyes as he lifts the mirror up. When he opens them, his eyes are wide, and his throat feels dry once more.

What had once just been a simple but intricate bird over his heart has exploded into a tether that has gone over his heart, over his shoulder, and halfway down his arm. A mix of blues and black, of red and gold. Blue birds, red roses, accented in gold. Feathers, petals, the detail is too real, it is too much.

And she’s seen it. He looks at her, their eyes connect, and he knows. He knows that she knows what this is, and he feels ashamed. He feels worried.

“I’m sorry, Ashara,” he finally says, and he puts the hand mirror to the side. “I never meant for you to see this.”

She seems shocked by his words, or…perhaps hurt. “Why?”

“I…wanted you to…”

“Want you for who you were? Who you are?” She finished his thought for him, and he swallowed hard. She runs a hand through her hair, “I know you were with me. In the Fade. You weren’t there physically, but…” She reaches over and traces a finger of his chest, over his tether to her, “The connection brought you. Too much magic overwhelmed it. Overwhelmed me. I don’t know if you remember but, hearing your voice, it got me through. It made me fight.”

“You said you would come back.”

She nods, “I did. But you were gone, you were lost, the poison was in your blood and mixed with the strong magic, it…it left you comatose, Cullen. We didn’t think you’d come back.”

“But I did, I…I heard you.”

“When?”

“Before I woke up. I heard your voice, and then I felt a jolt…” He was confused. But she didn’t look confused at all.

“Cullen, did you get my letter? Before Adamant?”

“Yes, I was worried about you, and—”

She smiled softly. “I want to show you something. I’ll be right back.” She got up and left his side once more and disappeared into her bathing chamber.

As she was gone, he shifted a bit, trying to get his body to move. His joints ached, and he slowly tried to work them. But when she came back into the room, his heart ached instead.

She only wore a simple dressing robe, and was down to her breast band and her smalls. “Don’t get any ideas,” She teased, but her voice was light. She moved to his right side on the bed, and she pushed the robe off her shoulders, as she let it pool around her lap.

He stared at her, unable to take his eyes away.

“There will be time for that later,” She said, but she cleared her throat. Her voice sounded heavy, it sounded far away. She held out her right arm. “Here.”

He looked at her confused, and she nodded down to her arm. “Look at my arm.”

Cullen tore his eyes away from hers to look at her arm, stretched out in front of him. And from her shoulder to her wrist, was a brilliant display of patterns, and red, black, and gold. A lion, intricate detail, a shield behind him. The lion’s eyes were soft, the design was delicate.

It was him.

He hesitantly reached out and touched the small part of the design at her wrist, and she closed her eyes. He watched her reaction as he traced a finger along the lines, and noticed her breathing get a little harder. He swallowed hard, and slowly pulled his hand away.

“I wanted to tell you. About my tether, I wanted to tell you months ago but there was never a right time. And then you went still, and I never thought I would see you alive again,” her voice broke, “So I tried a theory. Dorian had found a book, myths of the tethers, and strong connections. It seemed like tall tales, but I needed to try.”

“Try what?”

“I’ll show you. Lie back down,” She said softly, and while he wanted to question her, he did as she said, lying back down against the bed, his head on the pillow. The blankets were still at his waist, and she sat next to him on the bed over the blanket. When he was settled, he looked at her, and she smiled.

Ashara shifted so that she was lying next to him, curled up. Her head rested on his left shoulder. She raised her right arm and crossed it over his chest, and gently, she rested her tether to him against his tether for her.

He felt the jolt again, and a wave of warmth crossed over him. He felt present, he felt safe, he felt whole. He gasped slightly at the sensation and he turned his head to look at her. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either, but it worked. It’s been healing you.” She shifted closer to him, and he hesitantly put his other arm around her bare shoulder.

But suddenly he felt worried, “I don’t want to sleep again,” he said, his voice betraying him, and she nodded against his chest.

“You’ll wake up this time. I promise. There is so much to do, and we need to make sure you’re healed. Just…rest. Please.”

“Will you stay?”

“As long as I can.”

“Thank you.” He closed his eyes, and put his hand over her arm, as he allowed himself to drift to sleep.

***

For the first time in a long time, Cullen had slept through the night. He had slept more than 3 hours, and he was well rested.

When he awoke, he was alone, but he was not surprised by it. He hadn’t been sure if it was just the night, or if it had been a few more days, but he felt better than he had. Slowly, he moved to sit up, and willed himself to get out of the bed.

He slowly stretched out his muscles, his shoulders cracking a bit as he moved. He felt rejuvenated. Alive. But overwhelmed with memories, from when he was under, and when he awoke. Questions that he needed answered, but he didn’t want to ask them now.

At the foot of the bed, clothes for him were folded nicely. A note from Ashara saying that she thought he might want fresh clothes, and to use her bath to wash up. A bottle of a healing potion was next to it, with a note that said simply ‘ _Drink up!’_ and he made sure to take it to let the healing potion further the progress he had made. He took Ashara up on her offer and went to bathe and feel better.

An hour or so he was dressed and had his things gathered in a small sheet, carrying them out of her quarters. He wore a simple tunic and pants, but his cloak was around his shoulders, tied at the neck. His boots did not feel as heavy as they used to. In fact, everything felt _lighter._

Exiting down the stairs, he carried his things to where the staff left things to be washed and set his things in with them. He then shifted the cloak around his shoulders more and exited into the main hall.

It was night, and Skyhold was quiet, but for that Cullen was thankful. He opened the door to the rotunda, to take the stairs up to see Leilana, and as he reached the top, he found her waiting for him.

She greeted him with a smile and waited for her agents to leave the rookery before she hugged him. “I am so glad to see you, Cullen, much has happened while you rested.”

He moved to the fire, standing in front of it to keep warm, and held his hands out to it. “I imagine so, yes. Care to fill me in?”

And she did. She explained all that she could, and handled Cullen the report so he could read it himself. “When you fell…”

Cullen shook his head, “Leilana, you don’t have to—”

“Cole was the first person to find you. He didn’t leave your side at all. He was talking to you the entire time. He found the poison.”

“Cole?” Cullen’s eyebrows furrowed slightly and wrapped the cloak around him a little more. “I…”

The voice in the Fade, when he was having his out of body experience, it did sound familiar.

“Leilana, there is something that I should—”

“Hush, Cullen!” Her voice was a harsh whisper, as she put a hand over his mouth and gestured to over the railing of the rookery, where voices were carrying up.

He raised an eyebrow, glaring at Leilana for a moment before she removed her hand, and the two of them moved to the railing. It was hard to hear at first, but the voices were distinct.

“What do you mean you’re not a necromancer? Ashara, I _saw_ you cast Walking Bomb!” Dorian’s voice was hushed, but given his way of speaking, was still loud enough to hear.

“I’m not! I don’t know how I knew Veilstrike either. I’m not a Rift Mage. Or I wasn’t, before the anchor.”

“Solas seems to think differently.”

“Well Solas also seems to think that the Elves are doomed because of their religious beliefs so fuck what he says right now.”

Solas’ voice called up from the bottom, “I heard that.”

“I don’t care if you heard that!” Ashara called back, loudly. Though he could not see her, Cullen could sense she was frustrated. Her voice returned to a quieter tone, “Too much has happened in this last few weeks, and…”

The voices went quiet. He thought he heard Dorian comforting Ashara, but he couldn’t make it out clearly. He looked to Leilana, who had a raised eyebrow but not much else of a reaction. It felt wrong to be listening on this.

“He’s awake now, little bird, he’s going to be okay.”

“I know.” But her voice sounded unsure.

“And the tether?” Dorian asked, and Cullen swallowed hard. He felt Leilana’s eyes immediately on him. He looked to her as they heard Ashara say, “Our theory was correct, but I don’t understand how it helped. Maybe the anchor made it stronger?”

“Or, you walking physically into the Fade made it stronger.”

“I guess. And, I have to break it to the world that I’m not really the Herald either.”

“You never admitted that you were.”

“I know that, but others, they…”

“Oh, who _cares_ what they think? You are still the Inquisitor. You are still _you_. Let them call you whatever they want to call you, as long as they listen.”

Ashara’s laugher was light, but didn’t hold a lot of punch behind it. Almost forced, and Cullen quietly swallowed down the words he wanted to say. “Maybe I just worry about what some people think of me.”

“You mean one specific person. Perhaps one who has been taking up your bed for over a week? Of course, not in a way that is any sort of _fun_ …” There was a sound of a smack, and Dorian immediately yelping, “My arm! You _monster,”_ but there was no weight to it.

“I’m going to the tavern. Are you coming, or not?” Ashara finally said, and Cullen wished he could see her face.

There was a sound of shuffling, and Dorian’s voice replied, “Soon. I want to get something done first, but I’ll follow shorty. I believe Bull owes me a drink or two….”

There was a comment from Ashara that Cullen didn’t hear, and Dorian’s loud laugh scared the birds in the rookery. He heard footsteps and then a jump, knowing Ashara jumped over the rail to land below. There was thump and a “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” from Solas.

Below Cullen and Leilana, it was quiet. Cullen sighed heavily, and went to say something, but Leilana just smirked.

“Wait,” she said, and looked behind him, to see Dorian walking up the stairs, with his arms crossed.

“You know, if you’re going to listen in on a conversation, you should at least make sure it is a scandalous one, Spymaster.” Dorian teased, and looked to Cullen. “Glad to see our dashing Commander up and about. She was a mess, you know.”

“Ashara?”

“No, Varric in a wig. _Yes,_ Ashara. Try not to get poisoned again, will you? I’m supposed to be the dramatic one around here, not her.”

Leilana laughed, “I am glad she has you, Dorian.”

“Yes, yes, but let’s not use me for spy practice again, alright?” Dorian rolled his eyes at Leilana, who Cullen was certain he had never seen smile before. But Skyhold was full of surprises, it seemed. “I’m going to go drink the night away now, good evening to both of you.” He turned and walked back down the stairs.

Leaving Cullen and Leilana alone again the rookery, she sighed. “I wanted you to hear how she was. She would not leave your side since we returned to Skyhold. Demanded that you be brought to her quarters because she didn’t think yours would be good enough with the ladder.”

“I…well I suppose that makes sense.”

“It changed her.”

“Hmm?”

“The Fade, walking through it. Losing Stroud, exiling the Wardens, that had an affect too, but not as much as the Fade did.”

Cullen shifted the weight on his feet. “I fought along side her at Adamant, and the power she had…”

Leilana nodded, “According to Cassandra, the Inquisitor has never shown those methods before. I don’t even think the Inquisitor knew she could do them.”

“But that was _before_ the Fade.”

“Yes.”

A voice curls through Cullen’s head. _Her neck glows blue, her eyes glow white. This is what it feels like. She remembers but wants to forget. She does not have all the memories, but she will. Beware the path of blood-drenched wings._

He blinks and clears his throat. “I think I am going to go catch up on paperwork. But I will see you tomorrow, Leilana.”

“Oh yes, we have lots to do for the Winter Palace. Josie wants us to try on outfits.”

“Maybe I won’t see you tomorrow,” Cullen replies with a sly smirk, as he takes his leave of the tower, and winds his way down the stairs.

He cuts through the now empty rotunda and crosses the path over to his office.

When he opens the door, he finds Cole sitting cross-legged on his desk.

Before the last few weeks, he would have found it concerning that the young boy could just appear where he wanted. As if he was magic.

After the last few weeks, Cullen had a different approach.

“Cole, I think…I think we have some things to talk about.”

“Yes,” was all that Cole replied.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look, another chapter posted early ;)

She vaults herself over the railing near Dorian’s library, and she lands on Solas’ desk with a laugh. He’s used to this motion by now, and instead of discouraging her, he has just learned to move the valuable items and books on his desk to the floor. He greets her with a smirk, speaks with distain his is voice, but he doesn’t mean it.

Ashara hops down off the table, and shrugs, “I had to,” and Solas just shakes his head.

“You seem…better.”

“Then I was a few minutes ago?”

“Yes.”

“Sure, Solas.” She doesn’t sound convinced. She looks up behind her, up in Dorian’s area, where he was waving her off over the railing. “Actually,” She brings her attention back to Solas, “Can I speak with you?”

Solas sits up straighter in his chair, “Of course.”

“Somewhere else?” She says, as she once more looks over her shoulder, and the ravens above call out. Solas nods, and gestures for her to follow him.

They cut through the empty main hall, and to a hallway on the side, going down into the lower levels of Skyhold. Past the cells there is a room lit dimly, and bookshelves from the floor to the ceiling. “I found this room when I was exploring yesterday. Have you been here yet?”

“No,” Ashara replied, as she ran her fingers over the lines of books and drew her attention to the large desk in the center, with the equally sized chair. The room had seen better days, but so had most of Skyhold. “I’ll request someone come down and clean up this room. So that others can visit.”

“I can do it if you don’t mind. I find the space comforting. But I thought that perhaps you might also like it here.”

Ashara turned around to look at Solas, a smile on her face. “Of course, I do. Thank you for showing me this.”

He moved to shut the door behind them, and moved towards the desk, overlooking a few of the books that had been left open. “You wanted to speak in private?”

She sighed softly and nodded. “At first I didn’t want to tell you. I spoke with Dorian instead. I thought you’d just judge me, or even worse, _lecture_ me.” She moved the books off the large chair and sat down in it, as Solas leaned against the desk itself.

“Depends on what you didn’t want to tell me, perhaps there wouldn’t have been a lecture,” he says with a slight shrug.

“I think I’m under the control of Fen’Harel,” she says finally, and Solas’ eyes flare angerly.

“Fenedhis! _Ashara_!”

“ _See?_ Lecture.” Ashara felt impossibly small in the moment, as she sunk into the chair more.

Solas’ eyes were angry for a moment longer before he took a deep breath and calmed himself. He shifted, resting a hand on top of the desk. “No. Worry. Not a lecture, _worry_. Why would you think—”

“---I was visited again. In the Fade. Well, first time in the Fade, I think. I don’t know, it’s confusing. But I want nothing to do with him, and he just...”

“He _what_ , Ashara?”

“He wanted me to _trust_ him.” Ashara scoffed, shaking her head. “He knows of my tethers. That he _knew_ me. Solas, why would the Dread fucking Wolf _know me_ like he was claiming?” Her voice was shaking, and she sat up a little straighter in the chair, “He even transformed into a man, in some attempt to calm me, I think? I’ve never seen anyone like that in my _life_ , and he was there claiming we knew each other.”

She leaned forward and put her head in her hands, a muffled little scream behind her hands that she couldn’t control. Ever since the Western Approach, everything seemed to be going ass backwards. She had wanted nothing more than to just go back to Skyhold, to just see Cullen, admit to him about her tether, thinking that if she told him it would keep her safe from Fen’Harel. Some misguided attempt at trying to save her skin, and it didn’t matter in the end.

She felt a hand on her upper back, and she flinched, looking up to see Solas attempting to comfort her. “It could have been a spirit pretending, perhaps playing on your fear,” he said, but even he didn’t seem so sure of himself. Ashara shrugged, and shifted again, ran a hand over her face.

Fen’Harel’s words ran through her mind, _I returned the knowledge that you knew._

The thought made her shoot out of the chair, almost violently, as pulled at her hair around her shoulders. “Look,” She said, untying her hair and pushing it away, “What do you see.” She leaned her head to the side, exposing her neck.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Exactly.”

“The salve is working then?”

“No. It stopped working a long time ago. _He_ gave me a spell to cover it. And it felt like his magic moved through me, claimed a part of me. He said it was him returning something I already _knew.”_ Ashara started to pace around the small room, though she didn’t have much to go. “I stupidly spoke the spell when I woke up before we went into the Western Approach. It covered the mark. Completely.”

Solas was watching her pace but did not make a move to stop her. It was something she appreciated, because if he had tried, she most likely would have hit him. “You said the spell, and now you—”

“Solas, I suddenly can achieve abilities of Rift Mages and Necromancers that I have never been able to do before! You saw me in Adamant! And I didn’t think that _anything_ was wrong, it felt so natural. It felt so natural to be so…” She closed her fists at her side and closed her eyes again. She needed to focus. She needed to breathe. Loosening the fists, she moved a hand to rub at the bridge of her nose, and she opened her eyes once more. “Something isn’t right.”

She expected him to deny that something wasn’t right, she expected him to say _anything_ but he didn’t. And the pause, the silence wasn’t anything that she could bare. “Forget it. Forget I said anything, I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Ashara—” Solas stepped forward, to try to stop her from leaving, but she was already opening the door.

“I don’t want to hear it.” She walked back out into the main lower level and started to head up for the stairs, hearing him run after her.

“Will you stop?!” He yelled out and cursed under his breath as she turned to face him. She looked at him expectantly. He sighed heavily. “I understand why you did not tell me, but please do not think that I am judging you, or lecturing you. We will figure this out. I promise you.”

She inhaled sharply and swallowed hard. “Sure, Solas,” she replied, with a sad smile. “I should go meet Dorian.”

“Can we speak of this another time?” And his voice sounded _hopeful_ , which threw her off guard.

“Maybe. Not now. I’ve…been through a lot lately.”

He nods. “I am sorry about the Commander.”

“If it wasn’t for Cole, I don’t think we would have saved him.” She paused, “Or Dorian’s theory.”

He nods again, but slower. His hands move to rest behind his back, and he squares his shoulders. “I am glad it worked out.”

The silence between them is awkward, and it doesn’t feel right. Ashara nods in return. “I’ll…” but doesn’t know what to say, so she just turns and leaves up the stairs.

She doesn’t go to the tavern. Instead she retires for the night to her quarters and finds herself upset at how still and quiet it is without Cullen there.

Instead of sleeping, she works.

***

“Josie, it is _perfect!”_ Leilana gasped.

“The colors are simply stunning!” Josephine gleefully clapped.

“ _I am not wearing a fucking dress to the Winter Palace!”_ Ashara angerly glared.

Leilana and Josephine looked at each other and started laughing, “Of course not, we wanted to see your reaction.”

Ashara _tsk_ ed. “You wanted to see my reaction to a dress _bigger than the war table_ on me!? Josephine, you know Varric calls _you_ Ruffles, not me, right?” She was drowning in the fabric, looking like a horrible mess of tiny arms and a long-sleeved dress that was going to eat her. “I hate you both _so very much_ right now.”

Of course, the Spymaster and Ambassador were laughing uncontrollably, and Ashara kept protesting them loudly. Because of that, they didn’t hear the door to the war room open, and hear someone come in.

“ _Maker_ , what is that tha— _”_ It was Cullen, about to give his honest opinion of the dress, but as Ashara (struggling quite a bit) managed to turn around, he stopped. “Oh, I did not know you…”

Ashara could feel her cheeks heat up, could feel the blush all the way to the tip of her ears, and she was already mentally thinking of ways to kill Leilana and Josephine in their sleep for this.

“Cullen! You’re just in time, doesn’t the Inquisitor look _beautiful_?” Leilana managed to get out, to her credit, _before_ she burst back into a fit of laughter.

Ashara shot another glare at Leilana, which only caused her to laugh harder. “Can this torture be over yet? Please?”

Cullen, in his full armor once more, looked simply bewildered. Josephine, finally stopping laughing, nodded “Yes, yes. This was all good fun, but go try on the other outfit,” She said, as she grabbed the garment that had a protective covering over it, and handed it to Ashara. “I believe you will find this one _far_ more accommodating.”

“If I can _move_ out of this dress, I’ll try it on.” Ashara muttered, as she did her best to try to pick up the edge of the dress with one hand, carry the other garment out with the other, _and_ walk out of the room with dignity. “I’ll be right back.”

She walked past Cullen, who looked completely baffled, and she could only look at him for a second before her embarrassment completely took over her again.   
  


It only took two other handmaidens to get her out of the dress before she was left to try on the other one Josephine picked out for the Winter Palace. Ashara pulled back the cloth covering the dress, and where the large monstrosity of a dress had been pinks, greens, and blues, this was not. It was black, with a hint of color in the top design. Flecks of silver and gold were on the helm of the fabric.

It was sleeveless, with a delicate stain glass design of a butterfly as the neckline delicately outlined her cleavage. The rest of the black dress was form fitting to the waist before it moved out like a cape. Beneath it were pants, made of the same material as the rest of the dress. Simple silver and gold sandals to go with it, which she put on. She turned to look at herself in the mirror, as she untwisted the ribbon around her hair and let it fall long around her shoulders.

She felt…beautiful.

She felt overwhelmed.

The handmaidens looked at her in awe, and Ashara took a deep breath as she turned and entered back into the war room.

When she walked in, the Advisors were in a heated discussion about the Winter Palace. Cullen was in the middle of scoffing at a remark, but he had turned to look to the door and his entire expression changed.

Their eyes met, and she suddenly felt so very vulnerable and raw in front of him, even if there were two other people in the room. How he looked at her then, with nothing but adoration and want, was enough to make her set on fire.

She followed his eyes down to her arm, where her tether to him was on full display, from shoulder to wrist. At the sight, his hand reflectively rested over his heart, where she now knew his was.

Leilana and Josephine watched the interaction with interest, before Leilana cleared her throat, and Josephine smirked.

“Is this better, Inquistior?” She asked, a sly smile saying that she already knew the answer.

Ashara walked up to the table and looked down at the fabric in front of her. “How did you…”

“I know it is not the traditional Dalish robes, but I tried to compromise a design that may please you so that you could move around, but also be pleasing to those we are looking to impress in Orlais. Do you like the color and the design?” Josephine started to rattle off, and Ashara looked up and grinned.

“Josie, I _love_ this!” She ran over to her and wrapped her arms around Josephine in a hug, to which the ambassador giggled.

“I am so glad! This makes the rest of this better! The Inquisition will be matching you. We have more formal outfits, of course, not to take away from you, but our colors will be black and silver, with a gold sash around the middle. I thought we could match your design on your arm!”

That comment caused a strange sound from Cullen, who seemed like he might have choked a little on his own air, and he coughed a few times. He forcibly cleared his throat, his face bright red, and he rubbed the back of his neck. But as he bent his head down, there was a hint of the smallest smile, and Ashara felt her heart jump.

“Cullen, do you not like it?” Josephine asked, in honesty, and she seemed a bit worried.

Leilana just laughed, “Oh no, Josie, I think he likes the idea very much.” She grinned.

“Perfect! So now we have to do stage two of preparing for the ball!”

Ashara held her hands up, “Wait! Wait, okay first off…Josephine I love this design, but it is it wise to…show my arm to everyone?”

Cullen’s head tilted back up, his eyes darting back to hers, and she held his gaze as she spoke. “It’s just, this is a private…design for me. And I don’t know if I want it all on display for the Palace.”

“Oh,” Josephine stuttered, “I didn’t even, I did not even _think_ of that, Inquisitor I am so sorry! I can get this dress fixed right up for you, and we can add sleeves,”

“Gloves,” Ashara said. “If they’re up to my elbow, that covers the important part.”

Leilana’s eyebrow raised, but Cullen did not react. Josephine nodded, “A wonderful idea! I will get it designed for you immediately!”

“Thank you,” She smiled, “Can I get out of this now, I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Of course, but when you get back, we need to teach you how to dance!”

Cullen laughed, “Do we really need to bother the Inquisitor with that nonsense?”

“Commander, you may not like The Game, but Josie and I have played it for years, and it is played to the death. We must be prepared for anything.”

“Like dancing?” Ashara sounded desperate to get out of it, but Leilana insisted.

“Yes. I would so like to see how you are with it!”

Ashara groaned loudly, in the most unlady like way possible, while dressed in the most beautiful thing she had ever worn.

But at least it had made Cullen laugh.

“Oh no, Commander, you’re dancing too.”

And immediately, his laughter stopped.

***

“Oh god and the way he stepped immediately on Cassandra’s foot, I thought she was going to throw him across the room!” Ashara was laughing, _hard_. Leaning on the balcony outside of her room, she took a drink from the wine glass.

Cullen’s laughing was just as infectious, “It would have been quite the sight, I could have gotten her to teach our soldiers a new move if she had done that. I am surprised Varric still has his limbs! They were screaming at each other in the main hall right after.”

Ashara shrugged, “Oh _that_? That’s just foreplay to them.” She took another drink from her glass and pushed off the balcony, walking into the room once more.

“What?” Cullen followed shortly after, and he set his glass down on her desk, “Are you saying that…”

“Yep!” Ashara laughed, as she sat down on the couch in front of the fireplace, her wine glass still in her hand. “One good thing came from the Western Approach. They went into their tent one night and Solas and I didn’t hear anything from them until late in the morning. When I had to _wake them up_.”

She watched as he crossed over the room to her, sitting down on the couch next to her. He wasn’t in his armor, because Josephine had _insisted_ everyone wear clothes they could move in when they danced. So of course, Dorian came dressed to the nines, Bull wore what he normally did, Cole kept the large floppy hat on, and so on and so on. But Ashara didn’t mind the rules, if it meant she got to see Cullen out of his armor again.

They hadn’t had the chance to speak about things, not since he had healed. Not since she revealed her tether to him, and he realized that she knew. She was worried. Worried that he would be caught up in the mess that was everything she had going on with Fen’Harel now that Cullen was confirmed to be tethered to her.

But tethers were not supposed to _heal_ the person they were connected to. And that had been something that no one had even heard of before. Maybe it was the magic from the anchor that had made the tether stronger.

Or, it had been the magic from Fen’Harel, and Ashara didn’t want to consider that. She didn’t want the good thing she had to be tainted by the bad.

“Maker, that is not a pair that I would have seen coming.” Cullen continued, settling into the couch, watching the fire in front of them. She found herself watching him, a small smile threatening to break.

“Skyhold is full of surprises,” She said with a shrug, “I don’t know what it is about this place, but it seems to bring out the parts of people that they didn’t expect.”

Cullen turned to look at her and he smiled. “That it does.”

The fire cracked and popped, filling the comfortable silence between them. She took another drink of her glass before setting it down, empty, by the edge of the couch. “What do you remember?” She asked suddenly, and he looked at her confused.

“From what?”

“While you were…for the week. Did you dream?”

His expression fell a little, and he averted his gaze from her, looking to the fireplace. “I did.”

“Can I ask what you dreamed?”

“It was…confusing. I am afraid it wouldn’t make much sense to you.” He didn’t look at her.

She reached out for his hand, “Please?”

The silence fell between them again, as Cullen seemed to contemplate if he wanted to tell her anything at all. The conflict colored his face, and Ashara felt badly for asking. But she had seen his eyes move rapidly while he slept, she had heard him talking in his sleep.

She had heard him mention an amulet.

“I got pulled into the Fade with you, but I wasn’t there. An out of body experience, and…a spirit guided me to safety. I tried to reach you.”

Her hand squeezed his, “You did. I still don’t understand how, but you did. But,” She sighed, “When I got out, when I was back in Adamant, you were still unresponsive. Was it more than that?”

Cullen shifted, moving his hand from hers, only to face her more directly, his cheek resting on his hand. “Memories, mostly. Of…good moments, and of regrets. And, things I didn’t recognize or ever see before. A woman in a mask, fighting off a man in the woods.”

Ashara immediately felt her shoulder stiffen, and her eyes fell. “Shit.” It was what she was fearing – that somehow, he had heard the memory outside of the Conclave that the ‘Divine’ had claimed needed to be returned to her. It had been repeated out to everyone in the Fade with her, but no one could make sense of it; other than it was her. Varric had caught onto the mention of an amulet, but nothing else. The magic she had displayed at the Fortress was the same that was described in the memory.

“And looking for an amulet,” Ashara added, as she tapped her fingers nervously against her leg. “Cullen, I…you saw one of my memories. I heard you mutter in your sleep, and…how do you have my memories?” 

“I couldn’t see your face. But I knew it was you. That was a memory?”

“Apparently. A memory that I can’t remember. When I was in Kirkwall years ago, I had met Varric there.”

“Yes, you mentioned that. He mentioned that too, actually.”

Ashara shrugged, “The problem is, I don’t remember _why_ I was in Kirkwall. Only that I was for two years, and I left. I don’t remember why I was there, I don’t remember what I did, I don’t remember much of anything. I remember getting there. I remember Varric. I remember leaving. Everything else is…gone. And getting that memory back, showing me someone that I don’t remember, it scared me.” She felt her heart pick up, she could feel a wave of panic taking over, “It scares me what you must think of me.”

“I think highly of you,” Cullen’s voice was soft and smooth, as if it were a blanket thrown over her to protect her and keep her safe. “Do not think that I don’t.”

Despite that, it did not still her warring heart, and she struggled to take a deep breath. “I don’t remember who I was, Cullen.” She admitted, “But I like who I am now. I’m scared that…something is happening to me. That I won’t be the person you know anymore.”

“You can’t think like that,” He said, his voice more confident than she had expected it to be, and far more that she felt she deserved. “I, unfortunately, remember my past. I remember everything I did, and I hold far more regrets than I want to admit to.” His eyes fell for a moment, and he gave out a sigh. “Most of the time, when I was…last week, was me struggling against the darkness. Feeling like I was drowning, and I almost just gave in and let it devour me. It was easier to do that. To let it finally win.”

She recognizes the look in his eyes. She’s had that look herself. The feeling that you’re going to be alone, against the world, and there is nothing you can do to fight it. That your actions, good and bad, brought you to a place where you think you might not be able to be redeemed. She couldn’t remember a lot, but if the missing memories were anything like the one she had regained, she wasn’t sure if she _was_ redeemable.

“But I heard you,” Cullen continued, “Your voice pulled me through. A jolt to the system, and I woke up.”

“I’m glad that you did.”

“What I’m trying to say, is that I’m…Ashara, I will stand by your side, for as long as you will have me. We will figure things out, together. Things feel better when you’re around. _I_ feel better when you’re around.” He admitted, and he raised his eyes to meet her once more, “I won’t let the darkness swallow you whole.”

Now _that_ was something she had not expected, and she did not hold back as she immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, and she buried her face against him as she hugged him tightly. He was at first surprised by the action, but soon after she felt his arms pull around her, pull her closer to him. He buried his face in her hair, could feel him shaking ever so slightly – or perhaps that was her. She couldn’t tell anymore.

But they stayed like that for what felt like hours, and when she pulled back, it wasn’t far. His hand moved, his fingers touching her cheek tenderly, his eyes moving from hers to her lips before going back again.

Cullen leaned in to kiss her, tenderly pressing his lips to hers, and she returned in earnest, allowing herself to be lost in the sweetness of it. There was no urgency from when they had kissed drunk before in the gardens. Here it was soft, and sweet. It was slow, with a building hunger. It was a promise of what could be developed if they allowed themselves the chance.

It struck her hard that she wanted that chance. She wanted that chance so damn badly that she didn’t want to let go. She felt something wet run down her cheek, and Cullen broken the kiss, to look at her with sweet concern.

“You’re crying,” He said softly, running his thumb over her cheek to wipe away the tear.

She let out a soft sigh, but smiled, “It’s not a bad thing, I just…I can’t remember the last time someone wanted—”

“I do. More than anything, I do.”

“So do I.”

But she stood up and moved off the couch and held her hand out. “Will you stay? Just…just to sleep. I think I’d feel better if—”

“ _Yes_.” There was no hesitation in his voice, as he took her hand and stood up off the couch.

She led him towards her bed, and at the edge of it, she let go of his hand. Both slowly started to undress themselves to get into the bed.

Ashara had a thought that maybe in another time, she would have thrown everything to the wind and just went for it, get lost completely in Cullen. But that had been something she _did_ remember from Kirkwall: she used to try to lose herself in other people, so she didn’t have to face what she was dealing with. It was a habit she didn’t want to get back into. Not with Cullen. Not now.

She removed her breast band from beneath her shirt, but left her shirt on, pulling back the blankets of her bed and moved under them. Cullen watched her carefully, as he removed his pants, leaving his smalls. She held the blankets up for him to get into the bed with her, and he did so, silently but with a smile.

They didn’t need to speak for then to both understand how they would rest. He laid on his back, and she curled up to his side. She let her fingers trace his tether slowly, as his other arm curled around her waist to pull her close.

The sleeve of her tunic rolled up a bit, and as she moved her hand against his tether gently, her wrist brushed against it. Her tether connected with his, and Cullen inhaled sharply. Ashara pulled her hand back, worried she hurt him, but he stopped her. “Please…don’t leave.”

She bit her lip as she rolled her sleeve up, and let her mark touch his with intention, and she felt what he had – an instant spark, a connection that warmed her, and her reflex was to curl up to him more. It caused her to focus on her breathing, focus on what she was doing. Focus on the feeling of his fingers on her back, sliding up the hem of her shirt, hunting for the connection of skin on skin. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered out, and realized how true that statement was.

“Good,” He replied, and turned his head, pressing his lips to her forehead.

She would not let this be destroyed by a past she could not remember. She would not let this be ruined by something she couldn’t control.

She would hold onto this for as long as she could, and never let go.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lord help me, i can't stop updating. enjoy :)

The Winter Palace was beautiful. It was all shimmer and decadence and beautiful shine, but underneath all the beauty, Ashara knew there was something worse. She did not trust the Orlesians as much as she could throw them, but perhaps it was the fact that they wore masks. Wearing a mask, to hide the mask they were already wearing. It was exhausting.

They had been here an hour, and Ashara already wanted to leave.

“Damn this place, let Corypheus take it,” Ashara muttered under her breath to Dorian, who was lingering at her side, “I can’t pretend to care about another person’s drama! And do you _see_ what that man is wearing over there?”

Dorian was beside himself with glee, as he leaned in to reply, “The Comte is currently looking for his _man servant_ , if you catch the drift. He thinks that if he makes a scene, he’ll be rescued.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Dorian laughed. He nodded politely to a man and woman who walked by, and looked again at Ashara. “Though you are the talk of this entire ball, you must know that.”

“Of course I am, I’m an Elf.”

“You know that is not the reason, you are a _vision_.”

“Dorian, you’re going to make me blush,” Ashara laughed, as she looked across the ballroom, seeking out familiar eyes, and finding them. Cullen was surrounded by people trying to talk to him, and he looked devastatingly bored – until he caught her eye. Her blush was immediate, and Dorian nudged her.

“I don’t think it is me who is making you blush.”

“I—” She started to reply but watched as Cullen moved his hand over his heart, and in return she put her hand over her right forearm. Dorian watched this display and mocked gasped.

“Inquisitor, be careful, or everyone will think this delicate design on your arm is for your Commander!”

Ashara shot Dorian a look, and he raised an eyebrow in return. But his amusement was not so easy to hide. She was wearing the gloves to her elbows, even though the design went up to her shoulder. Many in attendance just thought it was an _Elf thing_ , which she was thankful for. “Dorian, shut up.” She laughed. She gave one more look to Cullen, who nodded.

“Let’s go. We have secrets to discover.”

Dorian left her side to start to sweet talk others into giving up their secrets, something he was disarmingly good at, and Ashara did her own bit of wandering. All the right bows, right words, the verbal dance of The Game that she was caught how to play by Leilana and Josephine.

But Celene would not speak to her yet, and she had to go about other means.

Eventually, it brought her to the other wings of the Palace. More intrigue, more playing of the game. Despite being the Inquisitor, she was not turning heads as much as Dorian or Josephine would have liked her to do – she was an Elf. She was practically invisible. In fact, she had already been called _rabbit_ more than once, so it proved her point: Orlais could burn, for all she cared.

But she couldn’t always do what she wanted to, and Corypheus needed to be stopped.

That didn’t mean that Ashara had to enjoy every second of this.

As she wandered the hallway, she spotted Solas, leaning against the wall by a table of food. “Are you having a good time, Solas?” Ashara asked, and to her surprise, she was greeted with a grin. And to test the waters, she added, “Also that hat is…hideous.”

He laughed, and Ashara blinked. “This is simply entertaining, Inquisitor, it’s interesting to hear all the political talks when no one thinks you’re there.” He raised an eyebrow towards her, and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, we’re practically invisible, aren’t we?”

“ _I_ see you,” He said, with his voice a little heavier than she had expected, and she cleared her throat.

“Any word on the assassins?” She changed the subject, her voice quiet. He shook his head. “No. Bull hasn’t found anything either. Let us know when you plan on exploring the rest, I heard the servants whispering about something.” He gestured towards the two elven servants in the corner by the kitchen, “Perhaps they will speak to you.”

She took the hint easily, as she continued down the hall, to speak to the servants. And Solas had been right, they spoke to her immediately, warning her of the Servant’s Quarters, and warning her that Briala’s people were ending up dead.

The name seemed to hit her memory in a strange way, and she felt off. Why did she know that name? It was…familiar.

“Thank you,” She said softly to the servants, and as they left, she looked over her shoulder. Solas, Bull, and Dorian were all speaking to each other. She should ask them for backup, she knew that she should.

Instead, she slipped into the kitchen unseen, unarmed, and unarmored, disappearing into the depths of the Palace.

***

It felt like she was working on instinct, as she took all the hidden paths in the Palace, as if she had known them intimately. It was a feeling of Déjà vu that she hated, and a sense of dread hung over her. Was this another memory she didn’t know? It was yet another thing to try not to worry about.

In that moment, Ashara wished she had brought back up. But it was too late for that now.

She could hear fighting, she knew she was getting close to something, but as she reached the end of the hidden passage, she hesitated.

To go right would be to go towards the sound, to potentially save whoever needed the help, and to stop whoever had done harm.

To go left would be to go deeper into the Palace, perhaps to uncover something that was not meant to be found.

She looked to the right, but went to the left, turning her back on someone who may have needed her help. As she opened the door to continue on, the screaming died. An unsettling feeling rested deep in her stomach, but she pressed forward. As if she knew something was here for her to find.

It was dark, and nearby there was a dead torch for light. She flicked her wrist and lit it, taking it from its post as she found herself going deep into the Palace. Walking down a long stairwell that seemed to go forever.

The closer to the bottom she got, the more confused she felt. Part of her was telling her this was the right way, to what she needed to find. But the other part of her had no idea what would be there, or what she was looking for. She felt at war with herself.

At the bottom of the stairs there was a door, and a place to put the torch. Settling the torch in the holder, she took a deep breath, and she opened the door, stepping inside.

The room was small but was lit by veilfire torches on the walls. The only other thing in the room was a tall mirror reaching from floor to ceiling. An Eluvian, she remembered, seeing one in the Fade. It was dark.

She stepped forward, and she reached out to touch it.

“Step away,” a female voice warned, and Ashara took a step back to look at who spoke to her. “What are you doing here?”

The elven woman in front of her wore a mask, her red hair up in an Orlesian style, and Ashara without being able to stop herself, _sneered._ “Briala.”

“Who _are_ you?” Briala asked, stepping forward, as Ashara took a step back. The dim light of the veilfire was helpful here, keeping her in the dark.

_She liked being in the dark, where people couldn’t see her. It was easier to work in the dark. Get in, get out, get the job done. She would not fail._

Ashara squeezed her eyes shut tight for a quick moment but kept her face away from Briala’s. Briala did not seem pleased. “I asked you a question, and I _demand_ an answer! I will call the guar—”

“ _Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris_ ,” Ashara blurted out, and Briala stopped speaking immediately.

_She says the words with intent, a secret code that few know, agents to identify each other. She uses it to weed out the unfaithful. He encourages it._

“Understood,” Briala replied, her tone changed completely. Instead of anger and annoyance, it was mixed with sadness and fear. Fear?

Ashara stepped back from the Eluvian, as Briala stepped towards it. She raised her hand but stopped. “I knew this would happen, but I did not think now.”

There’s a long silence, and Briala says the words “ _Fen'Harel enansal_ ,” and with a swirl of magic in the air, the Eluvian comes to life. Ashara stares at it, it is unlike anything she has ever seen before – and yet, something she’s so familiar with.

“How—” She starts to speak, but there is a sound in the room. Wind. A quick whistling sound and a sharp prick in her neck. Her vision goes, and she collapses to the ground. She is still conscious, unable to move. She cannot see, but she hears.

There’s a struggle. Briala shouts and then is silent. She hears a thump next to her, the sound of a body falling.

Ashara tenses up, not sure if she is about to be killed as well. Whatever it was that pricked her neck is strong, and she tries to fight against it.

There is a swirl of magic in the air, she feels it. She hears the words “ _Nislean'ean ma ghilana_ ,” and then the magic stops.

Her breathing picks up, knowing that she’s gone into the wrong room. But part of her is laughing at her. _Once you remember me, you’ll understand_ , but it’s her own voice speaking to her. She feels ashamed, she feels scared, “Whoever you are, let me go!” She shouts it out into the room, “I know you’re still there!”

She doesn’t know if the person who knocked her out is there or not. But she feels arms around her, and she struggles. The person stops and puts a hand on her shoulder to calm her. In the darkness, she feels a familiar magic wash over her, and she feels her body go limp. She fully passes out soon after.

***

“Is she alright?”

“Our healers did not find any damage; she will be okay.”

“Are we certain?”

“Yes. Cullen, I think…”

“Leilana, enough.” He paces the room anxiously, looking at Ashara asleep on the bed of the guest suite given to her for the weekend of the festivities. It wouldn’t be an Orlesian ball if it wasn’t a weekend affair, and for the first time since arriving he’s actually _grateful_ for that.

But when a scout came running into the ballroom to inform him that the Inquisitor was found prone in the Hall of Heroes, his heart had jumped into his throat. Immediately Dorian and Solas had come to Ashara’s side, to see if anything was wrong, to see if she had been poisoned. Bull and Varric guarded the door, as well as Cullen’s soldiers.

The Orlesians had paid no mind to what was going on. Too drunk too care, too busy playing The Game to notice, and it was yet another thing that completely confused Cullen.

Josephine was off telling Gaspard and Celene that everything was fine, the Inquisitor was just enjoying herself a little too much. It was a lie that would work, for tonight. But if she did not wake up…

“What happened?”

Ashara’s voice immediately caused Cullen’s heart to beat faster, as he ran to her side. He looked over to the other side of the bed, where Solas was keeping watch. The other man just nodded.

Ashara sat up straighter, and frowned, rubbing at her forehead. She then rubbed at her neck. “Where…how did I get here?”

“Our Scouts found you on the floor in the Hall of Heroes, Inquisitor,” Cullen said softly, “You have been out for three hours.”

“Three hours? I…” She looked to Solas, “The last thing I remember is speaking to you, and then speaking to the servants.”

“The servants?” Cullen questioned, and Ashara nodded, looking back to him. “They told me to be careful, something was going on in their quarters. Anyone Briala sent there, either disappeared or worse.”

“So, you went there alone? Without any backup?” Solas snapped immediately, an anger that Cullen hadn’t heard in the man before, and others in the room turned to watch the interaction. 

Though Cullen couldn’t blame him, it was the question he had as well, but he would have worried it with a bit more concern.

Ashara was glaring at Solas, “Of course I did. Why would I risk taking a group of three men drunk on the party festivities on a fact-finding mission?” She scoffed, and moved to get off of the bed, and opted to move towards Cullen for the assist. He held his hand out for her to take, which she did, and she got of the bed and put her feet on the floor. She squeezed his hand, as if he needed the comfort of what happened, not her.

But then she stepped away again, and was staring at Solas, who this time didn’t say anything at first. “I am sorry, I was worried.”

“I’m sure you were, but that was the past and we need to move on.” Ashara sighed and opted to look to Leilana. The Spymaster, leaning against the window, gave Ashara her full attention.

“When we found you, we also found a series of notes and items on you.”

“Meaning?”

“It seems that before you passed out from whatever it was, you found a significant amount of blackmail on Ambassador Briala.”

Cullen watched as Ashara seemed to tense slightly at Leilana’s words but did not show anything with her features. “Is it enough to stop the plot?”

“I am afraid not, my lady. My agents have also uncovered equally damaging information on Gaspard, and Dorian and Varric managed to find information on Celene herself.”

“She’s leaving out the part about the naked man in Celene’s bed,” Dorian said with a laugh, and Leilana cracked a smile.

“Yes, that too.”

“Yes, all of this is great, but we still do not know what happened to As—the Inquisitor!” Cullen barked out, as he moved around the room to stand next to her. “If you were to go to the Servant’s Quarters, as you claim, why were you found where you were?”

“The entrance to the Quarters is through the Hall, Commander,” Solas’ voice came to try to calm, but Cullen couldn’t help but feel anger radiating off of both of them. “Logically it does make sense.”

“Yes, but where did you tell us you saw her last?”

“Heading into the kitchen area—”

“—which is in a different area of the Palace, Solas.”

The two men were staring at each other now, and Cullen was keeping his shoulders straight. Solas kept his hands behind his back, as he always did, and met the Commander’s stare. “Commander, I do not like what you are implying.”

“I am not implying anything.”

Solas simply made an unamused sound and bowed his head before he left the room. When he left, Ashara turned and looked at Cullen.

“That was absolutely uncalled for.”

“Inquisitor—”

“Enough! I understand that none of us want to be here, but we need to stop the assassination. I think it is safe to assume that whoever got to me, is trying to stop us. So, let’s figure this out then, yeah?” Ashara sighed heavily and looked to Dorian. “Come on. We’re getting Bull and Varric and finishing this.” Dorian was smart not to argue and left the room with Ashara following after. She gave no other orders, and she did not look back.

Leaving Cullen in the room with Leilana, who _tsk_ ed him. “Cullen.”

“ _What?”_

“I understand you are worried about her but playing the protective…whatever you were doing was clearly not appreciated.”

“I am tired of finding her passed out or almost dead!”

“And I am tired of finding you like that as well!” Leilana’s voice matched his own, as she took a step closer to him, “You have not been the same since Adamant, and while I am pleased to see you have gotten closer to the Inquisitor, I know there is something else on your mind. Are you back on lyrium?”

Cullen’s eyes went wide, taken back. “What? _No_.”

“Good.”

“Why would you _think_ that?”

“You’re acting hardened, you’re less concerned of the perception of—”

“I am _trying_ to do my job!”

“Your job is to insult members of the Inquisition? Solas is one of the Inquisitor’s closest council, that is not a wise move. You need to apologize to him.”

He scoffed, “I _what?_ I do not need to do—”

Leilana’s eyes narrowed, “He is interested.”

“What?” His anger changed to confusion, his expression softening.

“In her. Do not make this a fight for her approval, or you may not win it. It does not matter if she is tethered to you or not. We both know that.”

He sighed heavily. He had noticed that Ashara was close with Solas, had caught them in an embrace, but she had cleared the air with him. But to hear Leilana speak as if there was more to it... “She is not mine to claim, Leilana, and I would not do that.”

“But you care for her.”

“I—yes.”

“Then make this right, do not dissolve into the ramblings of a jealous man.” The Spymaster placed her hand on Cullen’s shoulder, before she left the room.

Cullen left shortly thereafter, and despite his better judgement, went to seek out Solas.

It was easy enough for him to find the mage, seeking him out by the front gates of the Winter Palace, sitting on the steps. Cullen did not wish to startle him and made his steps as loud as he could in the formal wear and announced himself by speaking out the mage’s name.

Solas turned to look behind him and nodded, gesturing for Cullen to join him. He moved to sit on the steps with Solas, though with some distance between them.

“I have come to apologize,” Cullen started, and Solas looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“For what? I do not seek an apology.”

“For how I had treated you back in there.”

Solas chuckled at that, “I did not take offense in anything that you said, Commander. You were acting out of loyalty and commitment to the Inquisitor. As did I. Nothing either of us did was incorrect.”

“Perhaps,” Cullen said with a shrug of his shoulders, “But I should not have acted that way.”

“If you insist on trying to apologize for something that does not warrant it, then fine. I accept your unneeded apology.”

While the words were said with a hint of sarcasm and distaste, Cullen chuckled at it. Solas’ reaction was to smirk slightly, bringing an understanding to the two of them. “Commander—”

“Cullen, please.”

“Alright. Cullen,” Solas said, his hands resting in his lap, “I am simply trying to look out for her, as I know that you are as well. Has she told you what she regained in the Fade?”

He nodded.

“Then you know that things have not been easy on her.”

“I do. Which is why I came to apologize, she does not need to think that we are fighting.”

“A fair point.”

“I believe as soon as we get back to Skyhold, she may relax.”

Solas nodded but had a thoughtful look on his face. It was something that Cullen couldn’t quite read. “Yes. I agree.”

The two men sat in silence, when a scout came running out. “Commander.”

Cullen stood up and looked to the young man, “Yes?”

“There has been an update. You will want to see this.” The scout waited for Cullen’s command, and he turned to Solas. “Both of you many want to, Ser.”

The men left the front of the Palace and went back inside, where Leilana and another woman were waiting. Cullen recognized her immediately.

“Morrigan?”

***

They were running against the clock, chasing the Harlequin out of the Palace doors into one of the private courtyards, where Grand Duchess Florianne was waiting with a team of Venatori.

Which, _of course she was_ , and the whole thing was just dramatic and Ashara would have found it fake if she wasn’t there to witness it. But Florianne gave her speech and left them to fight the demons the rift above them was summoning.

When the rift was closed, that was when Ashara saw it. Saw _her._

Ashara approached the body of Briala and kneeled down. “Shit.”

“Venatori got her?” Bull grunted, and Ashara shrugged.

“It looks like that, doesn’t it?”

“But you don’t believe it.” Varric piped in, eyebrow raised. “Blue, we got to get back, warn the Empress. We don’t have much time.”

Ashara sighed, standing back up, “Briala deserves a proper burial. We need to inform someone to bring her back.”

“We’ll stay here, Boss,” Bull nodded between him and Dorian, “Watch over her. You go get that crazy Duchess.”

Ashara nodded, and Varric joined her in running back towards the ballroom. They cut through the hallways, and into the main hall, where Leilana, Cullen, Solas, and a woman that Ashara did not recognize were speaking.

“Inquisitor—" Leilana called out, but Ashara simply waved her off, “Not now. Briala is dead and Celene will be next if I don’t stop her.” Ashara ripped off her gloves throwing them to the ground, burnt already from magic use without her staff, and ran into the ballroom.

She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, but the anger that was coursing through her body was something she felt she couldn’t control. But she painted on a smile, truly falling into the role that the Game wanted her to play.

With carefully planned steps, she gracefully descended the stairs onto the dancefloor. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see everyone one gathering around the edges to watch what would happen next. Ashara was determined for a show.

Florianne looked _pissed_ , though she only showed it in her eyes. She went to speak to Celene – alone – but Ashara cleared her throat. “Your Grace,” she said, with a slight bow towards Florianne. “I believe we owe the court one more show.”

The Grand Duchess turned towards Ashara, about to speak, but Ashara shook her head. “The eyes of every noble in the Empire are upon us, do remember to _smile_. This is your party, after all. You wouldn’t possibly want them to think you had lost _control_.”

“Who would not be delighted to speak with you, Inquisitor?” The tone was calm but Florianne looked panicked. She looked like she was caught, an animal stuck in a trap desperate to get out. The reaction caused Ashara to smirk, almost wickedly. It was unlike her, but felt right. She was enjoying this.

That would be something to worry about for another day.

She circled around Florianne, “Really? I seem to recall you saying ‘all I needed was to keep you out of the Ballroom long enough to strike’.” The gasp from the crowd, she found, was a _pleasing_ sound that Ashara felt was so familiar. In the corner of her eye, she could see Cullen, standing next to Leilana and Solas, watching her closely. “When your archers failed to kill me in the garden, I feared you wouldn't save me this last dance.”

“Inquisitor is this _really—”_ Florianne was trying to regain control of the situation, but it was clear she had lost it. Ashara simply looked at her with a wicked grin.

“You framed your brother for the murder of a council emissary. You murdered Ambassador Briala in the Garden. It was an ambitious plan. Celene, Gaspard, the entire Council of Heralds, all your enemies under one roof.”

“This is all very entertaining; do you really think anyone would believe you?” The Duchess was pacing, but it was the Empress that cut into the dance.

“That is for a judge to decide, cousin.”

The guards descended the stairs to Florianne, who tried to run for it. Gaspard, disgusted, turned away to speak with Celene.

“You lost this fight a long time ago,” Ashara finished as Florianne’s shoulders slumped, “You were just the last to find out.” The guards took Florianne away, but Ashara did not have time to see if the Inquisition approved of her. She had to finish this.

“Empress Celene,” Ashara said, bowing, “I believe we need to speak.”

***

_She returns to him that night with the news. She has not found the amulet but knows of the next best place it could be. “Kirkwall,” she tells him, “But I wish you didn’t insist I attend that horrible gala to figure that out.”_

_“You did wonderfully, Nislean'ean,” He says, his fingers gently caress her cheek. She leans into the touch, her eyes looking up to meet his. “My only regret is that I could not be there with you.”_

_Her hand rests over his, and she nods. “You get stronger by the day. A little more, and you’ll be able to join me. We can restore the people. Together.”_

_“Together,” he repeats. There is a sound of approval that escapes his lips, and for that, he smiles. “Ar lath ma, vhenan.” She does not return the words, but she kisses him instead, grinning against his lips._

_“I will leave for Kirkwall tomorrow. But tonight, I am still here.”_

_“That you are,” He grins in return, and is quick to capture her lips with his own, arms holding her close against him in the safety of the Fade._

The memory is quick, but it’s what immediately comes to mind as Solas watches Ashara leave the ballroom floor to go and speak with the Empress. He half smiles, watching across the ballroom, aware of the Commander on one side of him, and the Spymaster on the other.

“Tis fascinating, how she so quickly adapted to the Game,” came the woman’s grating voice, and Solas felt an immediate distrust of her.

“Hmm, she learns from the best,” the Spymaster replied in gest, as the raven-haired woman smiled and nodded.

“I must speak with Celene, but I will see you at Skyhold.” The woman takes her leave, Morrigan was her name, thankfully letting some air back into the room when she leaves.

“Do you know of what she speaks of, Solas?” The Commander asks, his hands by his side, and Solas finds it fascinating that the Commander is trying to gain some sort of purchase with him. It is respectable. Honorable. He can see what Ashara might find valuable in him.

The sharp pain of jealousy flairs up in his chest, but Solas does not show it. “Of Eluvians? Yes, Commander. I do. I promise to bore you all with the details at a much later time when we have returned to Skyhold. But for now…”

The room’s attention was on Celene and Ashara walking up to the balcony. Celene, _alone,_ would rule. The Empress gave a rousing speech about how the Civil War was over, and Orlais would stand behind the Inquisition to defeat its enemies, because an enemy of the Inquisition was an enemy of Orlais. The Inquisitor said equally important information, but Solas found he wasn’t exactly _listening_.

He was more focused on the victory of claiming the Eluvians from Briala, an act that Felassan had been unable to do. It was regrettable, what happened to Briala, but it was to protect Ashara. She couldn’t regain everything back. Not yet.

Not when he was so fearful that he’d manage to lose her more than he had.

The speeches were over, and while he stayed where he stood, he watched Ashara disappear out into one of the balconies. For a moment, he indulged himself with a fantasy. That he would cross over the room to the balcony and ask her to dance with him. That she wouldn’t find the gesture strange, because in the briefest of moments, she would _remember_. Remember who he really was, what they meant to each other for those years.

But the fantasy doesn’t last, he’s pulled from it violently as he watches the Commander do what he wanted to.

He turns away and leaves the ballroom, opting to find better distractions in the kitchens. He’s only a few steps away from telling her everything. And for that, he needs to keep his distance as much as he is allowed.

***

The moon was bright, the stars were dim, and the air was warmer than she expected. But after everything tonight, knowing they need to be here one more day before leaving was maddening. Once she was left alone to her own devices, Ashara let her mind wander.

Which was dangerous. Not feeling like herself is dangerous. Not knowing what she was supposed to feel was worse. There was a part of her that took pleasure in the Game because it felt so _familiar_ to her. But that was just the thing: she had never been to court before. She had never done _anything_ like this before, but it felt so natural.

Natural enough that she felt on edge. But knowing everyone now really had their eyes on her, it was hard to let herself relax.

“There you are.” The voice was sweet, welcoming. Warm and comforting, and when she turned around to face Cullen, she sighed happily.

“Hi,” She smiled, as she moved behind the wall on the balcony, not to be standing in front of the door.

“Hi,” He replied back, following her lead.

She rubbed her hands over her bare arms, and Cullen frowned. “If I had my cloak—”

“It’s alright.”

“But are _you_ alright?”

Ashara turned and reached for his hand, taking it in hers. “Honestly, I’m not exactly sure. A lot has happened tonight.”

“And we’ve another night here before we are permitted to go back to Skyhold. There will be meetings, and—” Cullen’s face scrunched a bit, his annoyance at their longer stay at the Palace clear, and she laughed at it. Tenderly, she reached up with her other hand and touched his cheek. “—and I don’t want to think of anything other than you right now.”

A small smirk crossed her lips, “Nice save, Cullen.”

“It’s the truth,” He says quietly, as he bows slightly and holds out his hand for her, “Would you dance with me?”

She knows her face is lighting up, as she nods and takes his hand into her own. “It would be my honor.”

They move closely together, the music from the ballroom sounding like it is a million miles away. Her hand is in his, her other hand is on his shoulder as his arm is wrapped tightly around her waist. “I had feared something happened to you earlier,” he said softly, his voice hoarse.

“Something happened to me, _again_ , you mean?” She raised an eyebrow to tease.

“Yes. You have to stop getting into the habit of letting me see you like that.”

“Only if you also get out of that habit, Cullen.”

He gave out a small laugh, “That’s only fair.”

She shifts closer to him as they sway to the music, and feels his hand moving a little lower down her back, and she grins at him, “They can see us,” she mutters but allows herself the chance to capture his lips with her own. It’s an action that stops him from dancing and instead wraps both arms fully around her as he kisses her back harder. She wants to just lose herself in him here. But this is not the place.

“Cullen,” She gasps softly against him, and she watches as he swallows hard, as if he’s holding back.

“I have an idea,” He says, as he slides his hands from her waist and takes her hand in his. “Follow me.”

Her hand fits nicely in his, as he guides them out of the ballroom, and despite her claims that people could see them, it seemed like no one was actually looking at them. They were all too drunk on celebrating, on wine, on each other, that they managed to slip out and towards the guest wing unnoticed.

He led her towards where she knew his room was, but suddenly the confidence he had seemed to falter. “I…Ashara, I was wondering…” He stopped and was unsure. She wanted him to have that confidence back, in the hallway outside his door.

She stepped forward and placed a finger on his chest and trailed it down to his belt, and while she was not touching him, his breath hitched slightly. “Yes, Cullen.”

He hadn’t needed more than that, as he pushed the door open and pulled her inside, the door shutting behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the mystery picks up! and as warned, we are playing fast and loose with canon here, folks! 
> 
> next chapter picks up right at the end of this one. (ie: not moving quite into E territory, but really trying to earn this M rating 👀😉)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stepped out of my comfort zone a bit here! enjoy :)

No sooner than the door was closed, they both moved quickly towards each other, helping the other to undress. They kissed hard between the movements, and when she fumbled a bit over the last button on his formal coat, they shared a small laugh.

He shrugged the coat off, tossing it to floor as he reached for her again, helping to undo the delicate knots and bindings that kept her dress together. A simple tug on the last ribbon caused the fabric to cascade down to the floor, and she stepped out of the silk pants.

She stood before him, naked and beautiful, and he felt as if he lost his breath.

“Ashara, you are…” He started, but her wicked smile stopped his words from forming. Her hands on his bare chest pushed him backwards towards the bed.

“You’re still wearing clothing,” She pouted, standing in front of him, as she reached up and undid the ribbon that tied her hair back. She looked like a goddess, and he was more than ready to worship her until she called out her name, and then beyond that.

The remainder of his clothing didn’t last after that, and he reached for her quickly, and pulled her onto him. The feel of her body over his, skin touching skin, her breasts pressed against his chest, it was unlike what he had imagined. And he had imagined quite a bit.

This was better. This was so much better.

She straddled him, rocking her hips against him, but would not let him inside yet. He groaned at the friction, of feeling her warm against him, and pulled her into a rough kiss. She moaned out his name, and how she made his name sound, he never wanted anyone to speak it ever again if it was not her. He was lost, completely, fully, to her.

In a quick movement, he flipped their positions, getting her onto her back on the mattress. He kissed her on the lips, before trailing his kisses downwards, stopping to press a kiss on each of her breasts and soon, inside each thigh.

She was shifting with the anticipation, and when he kissed her lower, she gave out a soft moan that he desired to hear again. He had always been told he had a quick tongue, but that it could be put to better use. And so, he did.

Her hand was in his hair, gasping out at every movement that he made, every right spot, as he brought her closer to climax. “Cullen, I’m…” and it was then that he stopped. He moved away, as he kissed his way back up her body, and she looked so unbelievably wrecked that he wanted to be like this forever.

He was hard and aching, and she was begging, and it was not what he expected. “I need you,” she gasped out, and he grinned, a kiss against her lips.

“Whatever you desire, I’m yours.” With those words, he entered her, and both of them let out a gasp as he filled her, felt her tight against him, and for a moment they stilled.

But then her nails dug into his shoulder, and she moved her hips up against him impatiently, and he thrusted hard inside her.

Her legs wrapped tight around his back as they moved together as one, the sounds of her moans mixing with the sounds of his own, and bringing them both close to climax. She arched up her back, her eyes closing as her lips parted, he could feel her muscles tighten more around him and it was the last movement they both needed.

He called out her name, before capturing her lips in his, reaching climax with her, and they slowed the pace down until he slowly pulled himself away from her. Cullen fell to the bed next to her, his chest rising and falling hard as he tried to regain his breath, and he turned to see her the same.

“Hi,” She said with a laugh, as she moved to rest on her stomach. He was unable to help himself, as he turned to the side, facing her, running a hand down her shoulder and over her curves.

“Hi.”

He leaned down to kiss her, and though there was no urgency behind it, the passion was still there.

“That was…” She started, stretching out again and shifting so she was facing him, “Better than I imagined. “

“So, you imagined it?”

“You haven’t?”

Cullen laughed, “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t.”

“Good. I like knowing that you’ve been thinking of me.” She leaned over him, resting on his chest as she kissed him again, her arm moving to rest on his tether, the comfort of their tethers touching washing over them. “I should go back to my room,” She said quietly then, but she didn’t move.

“Stay.” It wasn’t a good idea, he knew, but Cullen wanted to be selfish. He wanted her to himself, he wanted to know what it would be like to wake up again with her next to him, with nothing between them.

She smiled at the ask, and nodded, “I was hoping you’d say that.” She shifted against him, and gently pushed him on his back as she moved to straddle him. He raised an eyebrow, finding himself getting aroused again, and she just laughed. “I want to make up for lost time.”

“ _Oh,”_ He grinned, running his hands up her thighs, “I think I can accommodate that,” before he pulled her down into another kiss.

***

In the dark of the night, he found himself wandering. He had not seen a forest like this before, the trees seemed to go into the sky endlessly, and the sky itself seemed clear. Bright stars were twinkling, lighting the way forward. He didn’t know where he was wandering, only that he was wandering.

When he came to a clearing, it was to a lake that stretched on for miles. To a large tree with sturdy branches, and a large fallen tree beneath it. Sitting on the fallen tree was a familiar figure, her hair gently flowing behind her in the night breeze.

She appeared to be reading something. He could not see what it was.

Sitting next to her at her feet was a wolf. Larger than what he was used to seeing, resting his head in her lap. She was petting the wolf’s head with gentle strokes, and the beast seemed to be lured to sleep. There was a sound of humming, it sounded like an old song he had heard the Dalish sing outside of Kirkwall, but he didn’t know the full tune. He didn’t know the words.

He went to step forward, but stopped. A spirit floated beside him, a familiar voice, a comforting one. “They do not know you are here. Be still.”

“Cole.” He whispered softly, but he did not tear his eyes away from Ashara and the wolf. “Is this real?”

“She gasps out a name on her lips, a feeling deep of love and trust. She wants you to know, but she is not ready to say it. Yes, this is real.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, “I meant right now. But…thank you. For the confirmation.”

“Yes. They do not see you, but this is real. She is closer to remembering herself. Remembering the Wolf. She is scared to tell you.”

He tries to step forward again, but cannot.

“You should not be here.” But before Cullen can say anything else, Cole disappears, and he is left in the clearing with Ashara and the Wolf.

He watches them, as she cares for the beast. But he moves, steps on a branch, and it startles the wolf awake. His ears perk up, and the wolf turns to face Cullen, with all six of its glowing red eyes.

He hears ancient words he does not understand, as the wolf stands up on its legs, but Ashara holds her hand out. “ _Stop. There is nothing there_ ,” she tells the beast, but he does not relax.

Cullen steps backwards quietly, into the darkness more, into the woods. He is not followed.

Until he feels a voice in his ear, familiar and loving, “ _Vhenan, wake up_.”

***

They don’t speak about the shared dream. Mostly because he’s too scared to bring it up, too uncertain to what it means. He does not know much about Elven culture, but he recognizes the creature she was with. A beast with six eyes, fur black as night. Was that the wolf she spoke of, of her other tether? It unnerves him, to see that something could be possible. _Could be real._

He does not bring it up, because it is uncomfortable to think about it. He still worries about what it could mean because it is something he does not understand. He still doesn’t understand the tethers, he does not know why his is so strongly connected with her. He does not understand why just being around her makes him breathe easier and being away from her makes him feel as though he is going to lose his mind.

Perhaps the last part is more human of him than he can admit, that his feelings for her are growing into something far deeper than what it had been before.

If it sets her on edge, she does not tell him. In fact, she’s cheerful and happy, and in the carriage ride back to Skyhold, she takes a moment when the others in the cabin are distracted and rests her head against his shoulder.

The simple gesture calms him, reminds him of what she means to him, but that there is still so much more he doesn’t understand. Leilana is in the carriage with them, but she does not pay them any mind. Solas, on the other hand, does. The mage’s eyes dart towards them as Ashara rests against Cullen and closes her eyes, and then Solas looks away out the window to stare at the road. There is nothing outside for miles, but Cullen recognizes the move. He recognizes the look on Solas’ face.

Hurt. Pain. Longing.

Possibly jealousy.

Cullen wants to be the better man and to gently nudge Ashara, to tell her that perhaps this is not appropriate. But there is another part of him that tells him she does this here and now _because_ she feels it is appropriate. Because she feels it is safe. He doesn’t want to take that from her. So, he doesn’t.

For the remaining hours, he can feel Solas’ eyes glaring at him when the mage thinks the Commander isn’t looking. Leilana, for her part, acts as if she is completely oblivious.

Cullen knows she isn’t.

***

When they finally return to Skyhold, the impact of the choices of the Winter Palace have finally caught up to them. Leilana and Cassandra are needed for the discussion of Divine, but Ashara refuses any conversation about it from Mother Gisele and the others. People they had been unable to reach before were now coming out of the woods to join their cause. Cole needed guidance, Blackwall went missing, Dorian’s father requested an audience with him, and Bull had to cut ties with the Qun to save his Chargers.

The days turned into weeks very quickly, and with that, Skyhold was busier than it had ever been.

Cullen had gone deep into training the new recruits, working with his Lieutenants, and getting them up to speed on the new drills he had outlined. They needed to be harder working. They needed everyone, ex-Templar and Mage alike to work together as a team. It was slow going, but it was forming well. Dorian would help at times to train the Templars how to fight with and against the mages better, and Cullen would help the mages learn what they needed to so that they could defend themselves against the skills the Templars had learned over the years.

It was a good way to pass the time, as they gathered information and intel on what they needed to do next. Ashara was away from Skyhold a lot but wrote when she could. She spoke of her visits to the Exalted Plains to follow up on what their scouts had already found, and the Dalish clan she met while there. (“There’s going to be a new recruit for you from the clan, Cullen, I hope you find his excitement worth it!” she had written one time.) He got word they had headed on to the Emerald Graves, but didn’t hear from her for weeks after.

He tried his best not to worry. Not to be concerned. If something had happened, he would have heard from her by now. He would have heard _something_ by now.

But the longer he did not hear from her, the more stressed out he had become. He would spar with Cassandra, to work the stress and worry off, but it wouldn’t be enough. He needed something else.

He knew who and what he needed, what he wanted, but she wasn’t here.

So each day he ran drills. He taught them how to fight, how to follow through on the moves. Until one day, out in the practice field outside of Skyhold, the recruits stopped what they were doing. They were all looking towards a direction, and he turned to see the Inquisitor walking towards them, in full armor, her staff on her back.

Cullen’s eyes went wide at the sight, new armor that she had picked up, looking Elven in nature, and she looked like she was born to wear it. Her hair was tied up and to the side by her ear, though the salve that Dorian had given her had been working to cover what was there.

Her arms were bare though, and the intricate brilliant details of her tether to him were out on display for all of the soldiers to see.

He started to say something, to hold up professionalism, but then she grinned. Wickedly.

A small fireball was shot towards him and landed on his shield. Not a harmful shot, but a playful one. As she got closer, she raised an eyebrow. She smirked.

“Care to spar, Commander?” She asked, and he could not resist the look in her eyes.

“Absolutely, Inquisitor.”

The recruits moved away from Cullen as Ashara walked closer to him. The crowd formed a circle around them, enough room for them to move, and word was already getting out to the rest of Skyhold about the little sparing match.

If this would help morale, so be it, he thought. He knew it would help _him._

“Don’t hold back,” She whispered in his ear.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” He replied.

They backed away and got into a fighting stance, and soon it began.

She fought him from a distance at first, throwing spell after spell on him. If he was a lesser man who did not know how to respond, he would have been hurt by the first electric Energy Barrage on towards him, and he deflected it with ease on his shield.

Mages watching put up a bubble barrier around them as they fought, protecting the audience (and they had gathered an audience) from collateral damage. Out of the corner of his eye, Cullen could see Dorian and Solas fueling the barrier.

The minor distraction got him as a fireball hit his arm, and Cullen looked up to find Ashara grinning at him.

His grin soon matched her own as he ran towards her, shield up, sword in hand. His intention was not to harm her, and he knew she would block him where she could. They made contact, his shield against her staff, and she used a spell to push him back.

He fought back just as hard, and swung his sword, knocking her staff out of her hand and sending it flying on the outskirts of the fighting circle. The fire in her eyes was easy to see, as she immediately shot an electric bolt towards his hand and he dropped his sword immediately, leaving only his shield.

She ran towards him and ran up his shield, flipping behind him as she threw another fire bolt at his back. But he turned quickly enough to anticipate her move and deflected the fireball.

Ashara was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly as they fought, and he was doing the same. If all these people weren’t here, he’d just toss his shield to the ground and take her where she stood.

The look on her face seemed to suggest that somehow, she had read his mind.

He dropped his shield and discarded it.

But instead of running into each other’s arms, they started to fight with their fists. The crowd gasped and started discussing about how the little Inquisitor mage was seemingly the perfect match for the commanding ex-Templar, going in hand-to-hand combat with ease.

He swung, she dodged. He made contact with her arm, and she flinched and hit back just as hard. She swung again and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her close into him, thankful for his armor as she couldn’t tell just how much he was enjoying this. She swallowed hard, and his eyes darted to her lips. He broke, going into kiss her and then…

…he felt his legs getting kicked out and suddenly he was on his back, and Ashara was on top of him, and took out a small knife, and held it to his throat.

“I win,” She said between panting and gasping for air, and Cullen laughed, letting himself lay back fully on the ground, his arms sprayed out beside him.

“That you did.”

She put the knife away and got off of Cullen, who decided to stay on the ground for a little bit. “Show’s over, everyone! Back to work!” Ashara called out, her voice cheerful, as the barrier around them dropped and everyone started to disappear. She held out a hand for Cullen to help himself up, and he grabbed it.

On his feet again, he gathered his sword and shield. “Meet me in my office in 10 minutes,” He said, almost _commanding_ and he couldn’t help but take pleasure in the blush that came up on her cheeks. He took his leave, entered his office. And waited.

***

She arrived earlier than expected, but it hadn’t mattered. The moment she entered the office, he was on her, lunging for her and pushing her hard against the wall. “You’re back,” He muttered, his lips pressing rough kisses against her neck and her collarbone, and the gasp she gave out beneath his touch was going to ruin him.

“I missed you,” She replied, pushing him off her slightly, kissing him with a scorching kiss, as she started to rush to get her armor off. He did the same, and their armor was piled on the floor. With nothing between them, she pushed him towards his desk.

He saw what was coming and shoved everything off of it, sending things crashing to the ground but he didn’t care. Ashara pushed him more onto the desk and she crawled up on top of him, taking him into her hand with rough strokes. He was already hard, the sparring match serving as foreplay, and he was more than ready to just get completely lost in her.

He missed her. He needed her.

“Ashara,” He managed to get out, his voice cracking ever so slightly, but she kissed him to silence him, as she positioned herself over him and slowly guided him into her.

“Oh, _Cullen,”_ Ashara gasped out, sinking fully onto him, and his hands moved up her thighs and grasped hard as he started to thrust up into her, and she eagerly met the pace. It was frantic, it was passionate, it was raw, and he felt like he would die without it. Without her.

She started to ride him harder, wanting a harder friction, a harder feeling, and he complied eagerly. His hands moved to her ass, gripping it tightly as she rode him how she wanted. Letting her take complete control, and he was ruined.

“Ashara, I--- _Maker_ ,” He started to get out, but it only served for them to pick up the pace, and he could tell he was reaching the end.

Her moans got louder, so that perhaps all of Skyhold could hear, and she gasped loudly. He reached up and pulled her close to him as she came, and he felt himself go very quickly after as she kissed him through it.

Coming down from the high was blissful and he didn’t want to move.

“Let’s go upstairs,” She said quietly, as she slowly removed herself from him, and he groaned at the loss of contact. But he agreed, watching her climb up the ladder to his bedroom, naked, and he never wanted to lose this.

He followed her after, seeing her lounging under his blankets on his bed, and he quickly joined her under them. He settled against the pillows with his arms over his head, and she moved to lean against him. “I missed you,” She repeated, sweetly, pressing a kiss to his lips. He moved an arm from behind his head to around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

“And I you. When I hadn’t heard from you, I worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you. I found…information that I thought might just be best to tell you in person.”

“When did you get back?”

“When you saw me in the practice field. We just returned, I wanted to find you. I came straight for you.” She ran a hand through his hair, and kissed him again. He eagerly returned it, as if this was the only thing keeping him alive. Sometimes, it felt that way.

Cullen chuckled, “It was a nice surprise.”

“Mmhm, I didn’t know you liked sparring as foreplay.”

“Neither did I.” He ran his hand tenderly up and down her back, and she hummed in approval. Her fingers traced his tether over his heart, and he softly closed his eyes at the sensation.

“We found letters addressed to Samson in the Emerald Graves,” She said, lifting her head to look at him. He shifted a bit, looking at her with curiosity, “They mention a quarry, I think we should check it out. I brought the information back for you to look at more closely. You…know Samson better than I do.” She shrugged, as if it wasn’t good information to have in the war.

“That is fantastic news, I’ll have Leilana’s agents look into it right away.” He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead, but she looked distracted. His smile fell, “Is there something wrong?”

“I can feel you in the Fade,” She said quietly, as she lifted her head once more. “Or, I have. I knew you were there once, but I wasn’t able to find you while I was away from Skyhold, and it was driving me crazy. I…hate not being near you.”

_Vhenan, wake up_. He remembers her words so clearly, and he nods. “I hate being away from you as well, but if reuniting goes like this every time…” She laughed, and he continued, “…then I think we can make things work.” He sighed contently, and she shifted closer, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What does ‘Vhenan’ mean?” He raised an eyebrow and Ashara shifted again and grinned.

“Heart.”

“ _Oh_ ,” He said, and a small smile grew into something larger.

“Is that okay?” She asked, and paused, “Wait, I called you that in the Fade. You remember that?”

He nodded.

“So…we can share dreams?” She asked, more of a question to put out there than something he could answer. “I kind of want to test this…”

Cullen shifted so he was sitting up a bit, resting on his elbows, “So how would that work exactly? Do we need to be sleeping next to each other?” He wanted the answer to be yes. He hoped the answer was yes. Now that she was back in Skyhold, he didn’t want to leave her side unless duty called for it.

“I don’t think so, I want to test the boundaries,” She grinned.

He did his best to hide his disappointed face, and she poked him in the side until he let out a burst of air and laughed. “What?”

“Come on, you have to be curious!”

“I am, but I’d rather just be near you.”

Ashara’s featured softened for the moment and smiled. “I’m here now. I haven’t made promises to see anyone yet…”

Cullen felt his heart tighten, and in turn he pulled her closer to him and on top of him. “Then, let us enjoy the time before we get pulled away.”

“As you wish, Commander,” She teased, and laughed loudly at his scowl.

***

Once she had left – because duty had finally pulled them away – he took his time getting dressed. He had followed her down to his door half dressed, soft and tempting kisses to try to keep them both there, but both knew they had to get back to work.

“I’ll see you tonight,” She had winked at him and ran across the battlements towards the castle, and he still wasn’t convinced that what she thought would work, would.

He wasn’t a mage. He didn’t have any magical abilities to him, other than getting the lyrium out of his veins, and the tether that connected them.

But he had never thought of the tether as magic. Was it?

He dressed fully again, up to his armor, and finished pulling his gloves on when he heard a laugh behind him.

“It looks so silly when you wear it. Covering your face to look more ferocious, but you do just fine without it.”

Cullen turned around to see Cole sitting on top of one of Cullen’s bookcases, and Cullen sighed. “Cole, get down from there.”

“Why do you wear it?”

“Wear _what_?” He asked, as he settled into his chair behind his desk to get some work done.

“Your lion helmet.”

“For protection.”

“You don’t wear it anymore.”

“Yes I—” Cullen started but stopped. He tilted his head, and chuckled, “Well, I suppose you’re right, I don’t wear it anymore.”

“You don’t have anything to hide.” Cole said happily, or as happily as his tone could get. Despite these little visits being regular with Cole now, Cullen still was not used to how the boy talked. If he was a boy.

After being guided by him in the Fade and in dreams, he wasn’t certain of anything anymore. If it had been years ago, if he was still in the Order, he would have been worried about it. But now?

It wasn’t the strangest thing that had happened to him in recent weeks.

He looked up to the bookcase to find that Cole wasn’t there anymore, and Cullen shook his head, returning to his work.

“There are masks here,” His voice came from directly behind Cullen, and Cullen jumped.

“Maker! You can’t just sneak up on people like that!”

Cole was unphased by it. “Some wear them as part of their costumes. He wears it as Pride. She wears many masks but isn’t sure which one she is comfortable with.”

Cullen set his quill pen down and looked behind him to Cole. “What?”

“Beware the path of blood-drenched wings. Bright as the sky and as deadly as the night.”

“ _What?_ ”

And Cole was gone.

“Cole! Get back here!”

Nothing.

He picked up his pen again to return to work, but as he tried to set the pen to paper, he stopped. _Beware the path of blood-drenched wings._ He had heard that before.

He dropped his pen back onto his desk and looked towards his door.

Standing up, he hesitated for a moment, as he thought over the words, over the last conversations he had with Cole. Of what he saw when he somehow managed to find Ashara in a dream, with the wolf with six red eyes.

He threw open his door and ran across the battlement into the castle, heading straight for the rotunda.

When he entered it, he had expected to see Solas, but did not. But he could hear Dorian upstairs, and so he headed up to the second level.

When he arrived, Dorian was muttering about the poor book collection, and turned to see Cullen waiting for him. Cullen sighed, “Dorian, I need—”

“You look like you’ve seen a demon, Cullen,” Dorian bluntly interrupted, and raised an eyebrow. “Are you alright?”

Cullen straightened his shoulders. “I need your help, was what I was _going to say_ had you not interrupted me.”

“Well you simply weren’t getting to the point!”

“You wouldn’t let— _Maker’s breath_ , can you let me speak?”

Dorian rolled his eyes and waved his hand, “Yes, yes, what do you need?”

“What do you know of Elven culture?”

“What?” Dorian laughed, “Why in Thedas are you asking _me_ , and not Ashara or Solas? I would say ask Sera, but she’d most likely chop her ears off if it meant she wouldn’t be called anything close to ‘elfy’…”

Cullen cleared his throat and he pulled his lips into a frown. “Because it might have to do with Ashara. And I’d rather not get Solas involved.”

Dorian took a step towards Cullen, his features that had been showcasing a playful expression now showing a more concerned one. “What of her? Did something happen? She only just returned…”

“Do you know if we have gotten any new texts in? Or anything that could—”

“Perhaps I can help.” The men turned to find Leilana standing there, and Cullen narrowed his eyes towards her, and Dorian just rolled his eyes.

“Spies! They’re everywhere!” The Tevinter threw his hands up in dramatic fashion, but as always, there was no heat behind his words.

Leilana gestured to the men to follow her, “The Inquisitor just returned from the Emerald Graves, yes? According to the reports, the woods were filled with old Elven writings and statues everywhere. Our scouts found some texts in an Elven ruin, but we have not brought it to the Inquisitor’s attention yet.”

“Why not?” Cullen raised an eyebrow, and Leilana shrugged.

“Because it is not old.”

“Why does it matter how old a book is?”

Dorian made a thoughtful sound, “Because if the book pertains to their Pantheon, new stories haven’t been written in decades.”

“And this one, talks of someone _new_ who has come to assist one of the Elven Gods,” Leilana added. “Come, I have them in a sealed off area of the undercroft, we can go there.”

***

Dagna had been waiting for them in the undercroft, and when Leilana approached her, the arcanist held out a rune for the Spymaster to take, smiled at both men, and went back to her work. Leilana walked to the back corner of the undercroft and held the rune up to the ice wall – it phased away and revealed a door.

“Oh my, you are quite something,” Dorian muttered as he followed Leilana into the room. Cullen hesitated, but soon followed.

The room itself was warm, stone walls on all four sides, torches lighting the room. There was a desk in the middle of the room, and on top of it were various papers and books. Some of the papers were letters and other missives that Leilana had received that could not stay in the rookery or were too valuable to be burned.

Cullen found himself looking at a few of the letters and scowled at one. “You kept a marriage proposition someone made of _me_?”

Leilana laughed, “Oh yes, you had quite the number of admirers from the Winter Palace, Cullen. We can use this to our advantage.”

“Burn all of these immediately.”

“Oh hush,” Leilana teased, as she grabbed the letter out of his hand, “You’re no fun.”

Cullen scoffed in return.

Dorian had started to open some of the texts, “Rough translations, I see.”

Leilana nodded. “Yes. I have had Morrigan look at some of them as well,” and Cullen scoffed again.

“Morrigan? Why? You hate each other.”

“I may dislike her, Cullen, but she has her strengths. This is one of them, translation of Elven.”

“Wait, is this right?” Dorian asked, his finger under a line on one of the papers, “These were written only in the last twenty years?”

“Not hard to believe, the Dalish do like to write their stories down.” Cullen noted, as he read over what Dorian was pointing at.

“Most Dalish stories are the same, as far as I can tell or have been told, this is the first time this _Nislean'ean_ has been mentioned.” Leilana said, as she picked up a different paper. “This one dates back twenty years. The one you have, it dates—”

“—to three years ago.” Cullen finished, reading over Morrigan’s notes. The translation was rough but spoke of the ‘normal stories’ (per what Morrigan wrote) of the Gods being locked away. It also spoke of Fen’Harel, the rebel trickster god, and his Nislean'ean.

“While he hunts in dreams, she hunts the living,” Cullen read out loud, “those who defy Him, defy Her.” He furrowed his brow, setting the paper down, and sighed heavily. “These are just stories, Leilana, this does not—”

“Blood-drenched wings? Now _that_ is an image,” Dorian muttered, and Cullen’s attention immediately went to him.

“What did you just say?”

“What?”

“The bit about the wings. Read it again,” He commanded because begging would be worse.

Dorian raised an eyebrow, but he nodded. “Alright, if Morrigan’s notes are to be believed…” He sighed, “ _Those who cross her do not last long if they do not serve their purpose. She violently takes what she needs, she is the weapon he cannot wield. She is action where he is words. Beware the path of blood-drenched wings. Bright as the sky and as deadly as the night. Together, they will restore what once was.”_ Dorian handed the paper to Cullen, “Then it goes on about Nislean'ean being the voice of Fen’Harel, something about hunting for an artifact, something about restoring the Elven people to their rightful place. It’s…terrible storytelling, truthfully.”

Cullen swallowed hard and set the paper down on the desk. He suddenly felt like air was being taken from his lungs. Cole’s words, right there on the paper. Was this a sick joke?

“Cullen, are you alright?” Dorian asked, and Leilana did not speak. Cullen looked at her, and she looked upset.

“What does Nislean'ean translate to?”

“According to Morrigan,” Leilana sighed, and looked at Cullen. “it means ‘bird of blue’.”

Cullen doesn’t have a chance to say anything, before Dagna comes running in.

“Come quick, it’s the Inquisitor!” She’s frantic and runs out of the room. The three follow her, as she runs up to the door to lead back into the Skyhold main hall.

“What is it?” Cullen asks, and he’s fearful for the answer. “Where is she?”

“That’s just it,” Dagna says, as she opens the door, “they say she’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...whoops x3
> 
> see you in a week!


	11. Chapter 11

The Emerald Graves had been a fucking _disaster_ if Ashara was honest with herself. Which, she rarely felt like she was these days, but it was an absolute disaster.

They had gotten what they needed, and found information to bring to Cullen about the Red Templars, but other than that? It was a _disaster_.

Cassandra, Varric, and Bull came along with her, and when she saw all the Elven statues and artifacts, she immediately wished she brought others along. Or, just didn’t go. Solas had disappeared after they helped his friend in the Exalted Plains, and that affected Ashara more than she cared to admit. To see a spirit of Wisdom being twisted like that, it hit a nerve. But if she tried to figure out why it hit a nerve, it was just met with something blocking her from finding out more.

But the Emerald Graves was the complete opposite of the Exalted Plains, and she was there in old Ancient Elven robes, walking the path of others like her, and feeling nothing but anger and regret. She took out her emotions on the Giants, on the Red Templars, on the dragon that Bull was so excited to put down.

When they finally got to a camp site their first night, as she walked up the broken stone stairs to the clearing in the ruin, it was staring her right in the face.

The damn statue of Fen’Harel, sitting in the middle of the camp.

“I’m not staying here,” She immediately had said upon seeing the statue, and Cassandra looked at her strangely. Bull and Varric exchanged a look but had said nothing. Ashara wasn’t in the mood to put up a fight, and had decided to find her own place to sleep.

But she refused to sleep, and spent most of the first night exploring the area on her own. No backup, just her, and her staff.

It wasn’t until far later in the night, that she came across yet another statue of Fen’Harel, larger than the others, that she realized she wasn’t going to be able to avoid it anymore.

Leaving Skyhold so soon after returning from the Winter Palace had been her attempt at running away. She wouldn’t tell Cullen that – it wasn’t _him_ that she had been running way from. No, she was running away from the tender moment that Cullen had seen in the Fade, when he wasn’t supposed to be there. Knowing he was sleeping next to her in bed, while in the Fade she was gently petting the smaller wolf form of Fen’Harel was maddening. He had seen that, and Fen’Harel had Cullen’s scent now too.

That was what she hated the most. She never wanted to pull Cullen into anything, into the mess of her past that she didn’t remember. Yet, it seemed unavoidable. She wanted…

She wanted…

She wanted _to scream_. But, she was alone in the Emerald Graves, and screaming would draw attention. Instead of heading back to the camp, she instead gave in and climbed up the large statue, and lay down on its back. If she was so _tethered_ to the Dread Wolf, then maybe he wouldn’t mind her deciding to use him as a damn pillow, stone or not.

She tried to avoid sleep. She tried to avoid going into the Fade. But the Fade found her anyway. Specifically, Fen’Harel found her anyway.

It wasn’t in her safe space like it had been before, because she didn’t really feel safe anymore. She was scared, she was confused. She wanted the good in her life to outshine the dramatics she was experiencing. The magic around her swirled in confusion, struggling to focus on one thing, and she was starting to attract demons that were not welcomed.

But she couldn’t control it, and found herself preparing for a fight in the Fade, when she felt the magic change.

An aura was pushing against hers, trying to calm her down. Trying to help her, while she heard the fading screams of demons being defeated. The colors around her went from reds and oranges to blues and violets.

She was not in an empty space in the Fade any longer, but she was not by her tree either. She was somewhere else.

She was in the lower levels of Skyhold. But it wasn’t the Skyhold that she knew. There was no rubble, things were not worn down. The air felt older, the magic older still.

When she looked down to herself, she was not in her armor. She was in black clothing, wraps down to her feet. A dark hood covered her face, and her coverings were down to her arms. Silver thread was weaved through out the outfit.

She tried to walk back up to the main hall of Skyhold, but there was a magic barrier stopping her. Confined to the lower levels, she could sense the magic aura from earlier pulling her towards a destination.

It lead to a door. When she pushed it open, it was the library Solas had shown her. But there were no cobwebs here. Everything was bright, books seemed well read and yet new. The chair’s back was to the door, and there was someone sitting in it.

A hand moved from the chair to the side, waving her over.

As she walked closer, the magical aura stopped trying to direct her anywhere. Instead it mixed with hers, pulling out her fears and trying to put them to rest. A strange comfort crossed over her, but as she reached the chair and looked to see who was sitting there, she inhaled sharply.

“Welcome to Tarasyl'an Te'las, or what it _used_ to be.” He said, wolf mask firmly covering all but his grin. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You have some damn nerve,” Ashara scowled, and Fen’Harel laughed.

“I have not done anything to earn your anger,” He shrugged.

She pushed back the hood over her face, and realized her hair was up and in intricate braids. She looked away from him as she raised a hand to run a finger over one of the braids.

“They are as you used to like them,” He said quietly, a tone that Ashara had not expected or experienced. It was…tender.

Her hand dropped immediately, “What do you mean?”

Fen’Harel, relaxed in his chair, in his gold and green armor and wolf furs, shrugged. His silver mask only covered half his face now, she could see his lips and his chin. She could see his eyes, but not well enough to make out exactly who he was. His hair was still tied back in a ponytail, the hair on the side shaven. “You’ve been regaining your memories.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Doesn’t it? The last time I visited you, you were scared.”

“Yeah, because now you know Cullen, and…don’t you _dare_ hurt him.”

He laughs and shakes his head, “I would not touch him.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I do not wish to harm him, or you.”

“Again, finding that hard to believe.”

He shifted and put his hands on the desk and stood up. “What is it going to take to get you to trust me again?”

“ _Again_?” Ashara made a face, “When have I ever—”

Fen’Harel pushed the chair back and walked away from the desk, towards her. “For almost twenty years, you were by my side. Had I known that our plan would do this to you, I would have never—”

She took a large step back. “Twenty years?”

He nodded. “Yes. When you left your last clan. You called out to me, and I came to you for the first time.”

She backed up further and found herself against a wall. It felt solid, as she moved her hand back to touch it, to try to ground herself. “You’re not real. You’re not real.”

“I am. And I am the reason you do not remember.” He lowered his head, in a show of regret, “Ir abelas, Nislean'ean.”

Her eyes went wide. “What did you just say?”

He lifted his head, “I’m sorry.”

“No. After that.” She swallowed hard, and felt her heart beating a little faster. The magic around her started to swirl anxiously. He took a step towards her.

“Nislean'ean.”

“What is that.”

“That is your name.”

Her breath hitched in her throat, and struggled to breathe. Her mind went back to losing her sight in the Winter Palace, hearing Briala fall. Hearing _Nislean'ean ma ghilana_ , and then nothing else. “My name is Ashara,” she managed to get out, “That isn’t my name.”

She could not see his full face, but somehow could feel his sorrow of her words. “When we first met, you stared me down and told me you were not afraid of me. You were stubborn, and you were wild, and you reminded me of myself when I was a young man. You wanted a new name.”

“You’re lying,” She gasped out, feeling as though she was going to scream, or cry. Both emotions she hated.

He held out his hand to her, “I’m not lying to you.”

“You literally are the god of lies.”

“I am _not_ ,” he snapped back, but held his hand out still. “Take my hand. Tell me if I am lying to you.”

She hesitated, but reached out. She put her hand in his, and in the process pulled him towards her a little, but there was still space between them. She closed her eyes, as he let his magic mingle with hers, “You were singing one night, when I came to visit you in the Fade. Your voice was beautiful, singing old songs I have not heard in years. Your songs were sweet like a blue bird, sweeter still. You were the sign I was waiting for. You became my Nislean'ean.”

He wasn’t lying. She could feel it, and she gasped again, letting a sob out. “I…” She looked up at him, still holding onto his hand, “I…couldn’t transform like you can. It was my way of being something else. Something better than myself.” She immediately let go of his hand and put it over her lips, “Oh, _oh. Oh no.”_

She stepped away from him and put her hand on one of the bookshelves, steading herself as she closed her eyes. Memories started to come back in waves, and her breathing became uneven as she gasped for air. She felt his hand on her shoulder, his magic trying to calm her.

_“You disposed of the agent,” She had confronted him one night, and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. The agent, bless him, had insulted her more than she wanted to. But the last straw had been that he insisted that she was sleeping with the Dread Wolf, to get so high up as one of his trusted agents. She had told Fen’Harel that night in the Fade, and the next morning when she awoke, the young man was dead._

_“He offended you.” Fen’Harel shrugged, and she threw up her hands in anger._

_“I can defend myself!”_

_“You were upset, I will not have my Agents insulting my best one.”_

_“Maybe that’s the damn problem, Fen’Harel!” Her hands were fists at her side, as she stormed over to him. “If you don’t let me fight my own battles, then everyone thinks I am nothing but your tool. Your weapon.”_

_He shook his head, “You are the way back for the People. You are the only one who is able to help—”_

_“Why, because I’m tethered to you?”_

_“Because you are the only one who keeps me grounded!”_

_“Pretty rich coming from a God,” She sneered back, and she stepped towards him, as he did her._

_“Enough.”_

_“Oh, I’m sorry, did I hit a nerve? Did the Great Fen’Harel get pissed off because he was called a God? The People worship you! They have altars to you! They fear you!”_

_“I said enough.”_

_“No, I will never be enough, will I? I’m just your weapon, I am just a means to the end to get you awake and strong again.”_

_He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close towards him, “No, you are everything,” he said, before he crashed his lips into hers._

Her eyes still closed, Ashara struggled to push past the memory, swallowing hard. She gripped onto the bookshelf harder, flinching against the hand she feels on her shoulder. She’s confused and the magic coming out of her is upset, angry. Scared. Her head throbs in pain and she yells out, as another memory is restored.

_She liked being in the dark, where people couldn’t see her. It was easier to work in the dark. Get in, get out, get the job done. She would not fail. “Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris,” She says the words with intent, a secret code that few know, agents to identify each other. She uses it to weed out the unfaithful. Fen'Harel encourages it. She wants to help restore the People who they were, when the world was better. When Elves were not pushed to the side, invisible. He’s told her stories of the lost empire, and his plans to get it back. She wants to help._

_The young agent in front of her, he has much to prove. He repeats the words back to her, and nods. He leads them towards the woods, where a smuggler is waiting. A horrible man that trades people like product, damning people to live as slaves. He is told there is a deal waiting for him, if he brings the Amulet of Mythal with him._

_The young agent confirms he has the Amulet, and she trusts him. She moves silent in the night, a silver mask on her face, a hood over her head. She moves gracefully, as if she’s dancing. She dodges the arrows and knives and throws a spell at the man fighting against her. The magic is electric as it embeds itself in its target, and with a flick of her wrist, the magic detonates. The man falls, dead._

_She moves to the man’s body and loots it but is angry. “It’s not here!” She hisses at the agent, who looks scared._

_“I was…I knew he had it! I promise you, I swear on Fe—"_

_She stands up and approaches him. She has no staff, but she wields magic all the same. “No. You do not get to swear on him,” and beneath her mask, she grins wickedly. The boy is killed, a magic fist coming from the dark of the woods and slamming him into the ground. She doesn’t like it, but it needs to be done._

_She burns both bodies and leaves Kirkwall that night. The stories will be told, passed as a warning: beware the path of the bluebird’s blood-drenched wings._

Ashara’s eyes fly open, staring at a spot on the wall in front of her, knowing Fen’Harel is still behind her. He had removed his hand from her shoulder, and she doesn’t need to look to know he has taken steps back. “You’re seeing what I’m seeing,” she gasped out between sobs, and she tries to get her voice back.

“Yes,” is his reply, and she doesn’t get to say anything else before the memories start coming back to her at a rapid rate.

They overwhelm her, making her knees weak. She stumbles to the ground, falling on her knees, handing her head low as she closes her eyes tight again, trying to get through it. She can hear him concerned for her, but she can’t make out his words.

She sees the years she spent training with him. She sees the years of working as his agent. She sees all that she misses of Kirkwall. She sees every person she has ever killed in the name of him, and in the sake of their plan. She remembers her drive to restore, to help him. To bring the Elves back to where they _should_ be, not where they are now.

A spike of pain shoots through her head, and she calls out in agony as she’s hit with the last memory she’s missing.

_“What will this help?” She stands up and backs away from him angerly, and she can feel her tether on her neck painfully react to her emotions. “Erasing my memories, of who you are, of what I have learned, what good will that do? I cannot serve you if I do not remember you!”_

_“You cannot serve me well if you remember everything, Nislean'ean, you need to be impartial. What we are doing—”_

_“What we are doing? What you are asking me to do, is to send me to my death! We don’t know how this is going to—”_

_“I will not explain myself,” Fen’Harel growls at her, and she stares back at him with defiance._

_“I am tired of being your weapon, Vhenan!”_

_His eyes go from anger to surprise, and she has never seen him this off guard. It’s when she realizes what she says, that she panics. She feels the anxiety rising, “What if this doesn’t work? Then everything will be for—”_

_He tries to quiet her nerves by kissing her, wrapping his arms around her tightly. The kiss parts and she wraps her arms around his neck and sobs quietly. He holds her through it. “It will work. It has to. It will release the power of the Orb, our Agents have already gotten it into his hands.”_

_“This is a mistake, I told you this was a mistake,” She says as she pulls back and rubs at her eyes. “To trust—”_

_“Nislean’ean. Vhenan, please.”_

_She looks up at him, “Let me see your face. Please. If you are going to remove everything that I have, everything that we had for these years, at least…grant me that. Please.”_

_He lets go of her, and hesitates. He nods, and he transforms himself, slowly. Not showing the young man he was, but the man he is now. Still wearing the silver mask, he removes the wolf jaw necklace he now wears and places the sharp edges into her right hand._

_She reaches up and removes the mask, to finally see him. She smiles, and touches his cheek with her other hand._

_“I’ll forget you,” She tells him, and he nods._

_“I won’t forget you.”_

_He kisses her once more, as he presses the wolf jaw’s edges into her hand and she calls out in pain. Her neck glows blue, her eyes glow white. Her memory goes dark._

Ashara’s eyes open, her hands on the cool stone of the floor, and she gasps for air. Her heart is pounding. It’s painful, and it’s mixed with too many emotions.

She struggles to stand, and uses the bookshelf once more to steady herself.

She knows he’s behind her. She knows he saw what she did.

Slowly, Ashara turns around to face him. He does not move towards her, he does not move at all. His wolf mask still firm on his face. She approaches him, and reaches up and takes off the mask roughly, and tosses it to the ground. She doesn’t care that she hurts him. The mask falls with a clink of metal to stone.

When she sees Solas’ face staring back at her, she screams in anger and rage.

The magic explodes out from her, destroying the illusion around them, and she screams again, pushing him fully out of her vision.

She wakes up back in the Emerald Graves, sitting on his damn statue, and it pisses her off _more_. She is raging, she is the embodiment of a demon. Leaping off the statue, she calls down a fist from the fade and slams it into the statue with a force that she had never called before. She uses the anchor, _his magic_ , to turn the large stone statue into nothing but dust.

The wind carries the stone dust away, as she heaving and desperate for anything, something, to make her feel better.

She fights whatever she can on the way back to the camp, and when Cassandra, Varric, and Bull take one look at her they know they’re not staying there.

They leave for Skyhold within the hour.

Going to the Emerald Graves was a _fucking disaster_.

***

When they return to Skyhold, she needs to see Cullen. He’s the good thing that is keeping her connected to this world, to tell her that it is good and might not need to be destroyed. Maybe they can move forward. Maybe she can move forward.

But she’s stuck between who she is as Ashara, and who she was as Nislean'ean, and she doesn’t know how to compensate that.

When they arrive at Skyhold, she’s informed that the Commander was out training the soldiers, and she took it as a chance to see Cullen at his best. Which turned into fighting Cullen at his best and telling him not to hold back. And he didn’t. She was thankful for that.

She was thankful for after, in his office, she was thankful again in his bed. The one place now in Skyhold that she felt safe, that she felt content.

But Skyhold wasn’t even hers anymore. Was it ever hers? No, Tarasyl'an Te'las was _his_.

Cullen’s fingers on her back brought her back to the present, confirmed where she was, tethered her to him. She was thankful for him. She loved him. She _loved_ him, and wanted to tell him everything. She needed to tell him everything, but was scared.

What she had done in the past was…some of the things were unforgiveable, exactly what she worried about. She was not the woman she thought she was. She was not the woman he knew. But she wanted to be, she wanted to be so fucking _badly_ that it made her hurt.

Leaving Cullen’s side hurt. Not being near him, hurt. When she was with him, the world made sense. It was worth living in, it was worth saving, it was worth it for just a moment in his arms. The feeling of _love_ overwhelmed her.

But duty called. She needed to act the part. She needed to be the Inquisitor, and she needed to forget the Fade. She needed to forget the anger that was flowing through her like wine, she needed to forget the overwhelming feeling of _betrayal_. Yes, she had agreed to this, she had agreed to his plan. To Fen’Harel’s plan. But to find it all unraveling now, when her life felt good, when she was a completely different person, when she was falling in love…

Walking the battlement from Cullen’s office to the castle, she stopped midstride.

The door in front of her would lead directly into the rotunda.

It would lead her directly to Solas.

She felt her anger spike, her magic flared. Her eyes narrowed.

Immediately she ran across the battlements, and flew open the door to the rotunda, and walked in to see Solas standing over his desk in the middle of the room. Upon her entering, he stood up straight and took a step towards her.

She saw regret and sadness in his eyes. But she saw a small hint of hope too.

“Ashara—” He started, but she screamed out.

“Fuck _you,”_ She balled her hand into a fist and punched him hard across the face, knocking him back and to the ground. Her eyes _glowed_ a white magic, before it disappeared, as she stared down at him. “You…you lied to me. To _me_!”

He didn’t move from the floor, “I can—”

“ _No.”_ She didn’t want to hear his explanations. She stormed out of the rotunda and crossed the hall to go down towards the lower levels of Skyhold.

She walked with purpose, as she threw open the door to the lower library, and conjured a fireball in her hand. Without a second thought, she threw it into the center of the room, and watched as everything caught fire. She knew what the room contained. Old stories, old plans. Old promises he had made, and things she believed. Everything she had _fought_ for and wanted so badly she could taste it.

As the flames spread, she cast a barrier over the room, to keep the flames contained to that one room, and turned around and left, going through the underground pathways up towards the gardens. Pathways she knew because of Cullen. Pathways she knew because of _Fen’Harel._

The gardens were busy, and Morrigan spotted Ashara immediately, and sauntered over to her. “Inquisitor, let me show you something,” and had grabbed Ashara’s wrist, leading her into a room.

The room that Ashara and Cullen had snuck off into, the first night they kissed.

But instead of a full set of furniture, it was all gone. Instead, stood an Eluvian.

“Do you know what—” Morrigan started, her tone of one who thought she knew it all, and Ashara cut her off.

“Yes, it’s an Eluvian,” She turned and looked at Morrigan, and laughed, “This is just what I needed! Thank you, I’ll use it right away.”

Morrigan scoffed, “You cannot, this is no ordinary—”

Ashara looked at her wrist, which Morrigan still had her hand on, and Ashara let the anchor glow a little. The magic called out to Morrigan’s, seeking the password. There was none. Ashara snatched her wrist away. “No passcode? You’re an idiot.”

Ashara turned, and activated the Eluvian, and Morrigan looked at her in shock. “How did you—”

She doesn’t wait for Morrigan to get her words out, as she steps through the Eluvian and into the Crossroads. She locks the mirror behind her, quietly speaking “ _Nislean'ean ma ghilana_.”

Nothing else in the Crossroads is working, the Eluvians are off, or broken, and for the first time Ashara finally saw something for herself that used to be alive, that he hadn’t shown her first.

Emotions finally taking her over, she slid down the mirror, hung her head, and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i say i was going to wait a week to post this? whoops, got excited. 
> 
> also, i have another part of this story up called "in between", where i'm going to be posting little snippets that i wrote that didn't exactly fit the flow of this story. so feel free to go and check that out if it interests you!


	12. Chapter 12

“Commander, there is a fire in the lower levels of the castle!”

“The Inquisitor, she ran across the main hall in a rage!”

“She’s completely disappeared!”

“ _Enough_!” Cullen’s voice boomed over the others in the hall, gathering around them. “Josephine, get the nobles back to their rooms.”

Josephine nodded, and went to escort some of the nobility that hung around the halls away. Cullen turned to the scout that informed him of the fire, “Don’t just stand there, go put it out!”

“That’s the thing, Ser, we can’t! It’s barricaded by magic!”

Dorian nodded to Cullen, “I’ll resolve it,” putting a hand on Cullen’s arm. “Go find our girl.” He nodded to the scout to lead the way, and Dorian and a few of the mages followed to go stop the fire from spreading. Cullen nodded to Dorian, but he didn’t _feel_ any better about anything.

Stories about Elven Gods, and Ashara? They couldn’t possibly be connected..

_She pulls back her hair and tilts her neck so he can see it. The small wolf tether mark behind her ear. “…to be marked, to be tethered to Fen’Harel…it’s done nothing but bring me harm.”_

Cullen inhales sharply, and puts his hand over his heart, and swallows hard. He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this one bit.

“Do we have any lead on where she went? Did she leave through the front gates?” Cullen asked Dagna, who quickly shook her head.

“No, I heard that she—”

“She went through the Eluvian,” Morrigan spoke as she walked into the hall and up to them, looking less like a woman who knew it all, and more like a woman who was scared. “I have never seen such power, the look in her eyes…”

“Has she been possessed?” Leilana asked carefully, and Cullen swallowed hard. Thinking back to their moments together hours before when she had returned in the early morning, the sparing, the moments after, feeling more connected to her than he had been before…

“No.”

Cullen turned to the fireplace, to see Solas standing at the door. A black eye was forming over his face, and he hesitantly approached the small group. “She got her memories back.”

Varric, who was observing the conversation, looked to Solas, “And her memories meant giving you that black eye, huh?”

“That is _none_ of your concern,” Solas coldly replied, and before the bickering continued, Cullen stepped in once more.

“Do you know where she went.”

“I do not.”

“But you said you know about the Eluvians—”

“Yes, I do not know where _this one_ leads.” Solas took a moment to glare at Morrigan, who quickly looked away to her hands. “Surely you had a passcode on it?”

When Morrigan did not reply, Solas scoffed. “Of course not.” Morrigan glared at him, but Solas didn’t seem to care.

“So what do we do now?” Leilana crossed her arms over her chest, looking from Cullen to Solas. “Can we go after her?”

“She locked it, I cannot break the hold,” Morrigan replied, daring herself to look up at Solas. “Unless you know of the passcode she would have used, tis hopeless to guess. There are…countless possibilities.”

There was no reply from Solas, only a scowl. And then a wince, as he put a hand over his eye. “Commander, there is…one way.”

“What is it?”

“If we can speak in private.”

Cullen looked at Solas, looked at the black eye that the other man was sporting, and narrowed his eyes. “Why.”

“It pertains to a private matter between you and the Inquisitor, that I believe you wish to keep quiet.”

The others in the hall looked at Cullen, and he scowled. “Fine. Come, to the healer to get that eye looked at and we will speak then.”

Solas simply nodded, and let Cullen lead the way out of the hall and outside to the courtyard.

Both men were silent as they walked to the healer. When they entered, Cullen ordered everyone to leave, and shut the door behind them. Solas went to the potions table, and took a potion while he cast magic over his eye.

Cullen leaned against the wall. “Well?”

Solas sighed, “I believe your tether to her will connect you. I can sense a strong magic there. I know the connection was what brought you back after you were poisoned. Maybe this can be a way to reach her.”

“I fear it’s her other tether that got her into this mess,” Cullen sighs as well, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Why?”

“You don’t ask why she has two, just ‘why’?”

“I already knew she had two, she told Dorian and I. She asked us to help her cover it.”

“Then you know what it is. What it is to.”

“I do.” There was sadness in his voice, and it threw Cullen off. His eyes narrowed for a moment, looking over the other man.

“Solas—”

“Please, Commander, just get her back. Reach out to her, in the Fade, as she reached to you.” Solas moved to walk past Cullen to the door, but Cullen stopped him.

“Tell me why she hit you.”

“What makes you think she—”

“Your reaction to her leaving. That people saw her storming out of the rotunda, and then she was gone. The sadness in your voice not knowing where she is.” Cullen stood a little straighter, “I’ve…seen how you look at her.”

Solas froze where he was, and looked to the ground. He inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly. He wrapped a hand around his wrist, and looked to Cullen. “If you care for her, then go to her. I don’t know what else to tell you that would make you act.”

Cullen’s brow furrowed as he looked over the other man, but Solas didn’t say another word, only looking for permission to leave. Cullen nodded. “She may want to apologize to you when she gets back. About the eye.”

Solas opened the door and chuckled sadly, “I am afraid I am the one who owes her apologies. But I promise to be here when she returns.” He left the door open as he walked out, and Cullen followed after, going in the direction of his office.

Once he was safely in his office, he locked all the doors and headed up to his bedroom. This was not how he had expected the night to go. This was not how he had expected his _day_ to go, but it had good moments.

He thought of Ashara, of her lips on his, secure in his arms, wanting to keep her out of harm but knowing he wouldn’t be able to. He had been thinking in terms of Corypheus, but now it seemed to lead to other things.

He didn’t know the first thing about the Fade. He didn’t know how to _reach someone_ in it. But he knew it involved sleeping, it involved trying to dream.

The nightmares he used to have were gone these days, because of her. He hoped that doing this wouldn’t bring new ones to the front.

He settled into his bed, removing his armor once more, but stayed in his tunic and pants. He lay down, and closed his eyes.

When he opens his eyes, he’s somewhere familiar.

“Kirkwall,” He mutters, but the air is different. The city is quiet, too calm. The type of feeling that would always tell Cullen that something was right around the corner. He wasn’t wearing his Templar uniform though, he was in the tunic and pants he wore when he had laid down. Around him seemed to be memories of others in the street, disappearing and appearing with the wind.

Footsteps were running towards him, and he turned to see someone with a hood over their face. An all-black outfit, but it stood out against the bright colors of the city. Of the _Fade_.

As the figure ran past him, they turned to look at Cullen. A simple silver mask, hiding all but the eyes. Eyes he knew. Eyes he recognized.

“Ashara?” He asked, reaching for her but she kept running.

He immediately followed.

She was cutting through the alleys between buildings, and he wasn’t even sure what part of the city he was in anymore. If it was still Kirkwall at all. The buildings started to shift and mold, but he stayed focused on reaching her.

It sounded like…she was laughing. A light laughter that made his heart leap and soon he found her, running into a building. He ran in after her, and was hit with what was happening.

“Wait,” He said softly, as she removed the hood she was wearing, letting it fall behind her. She removed the full mask, and held it in her hand. “This is…”

“I wanted to show you something.” She said, gesturing for Cullen to follow her. They headed up the stone stairs to the area that looked over the main room, and she sat down on the edge. Her legs dangled over, and Cullen sat next to her.

“Why are we in The Hanged Man?” There were a million questions that Cullen had, of course, but the immediate was the first that came out. He felt guilty for that, but his guilt changed to confusion as he saw who was in the corner of the room sitting at a table alone.

It was him. A much younger version of him, out of his armor, trying to hide among the crowd. But it was him.

Ashara sighed, “I wanted to show you the first time we met.”

“What?” His eyebrows raised in confusion, and she reached over to take his hand. It felt real, and he swallowed hard. “We didn’t meet until Haven.”

“Incorrect,” She said, as she gestured to an area by the bar. Varric was sitting telling a wild story to people he didn’t recognize. Another dwarf, an elven boy, and someone in a black hood. He looked to Ashara next to him, to her outfit, and she nodded. “That’s me.”

The younger version of Ashara pushed her hood back, and her white-blond hair was up in delicate braids and had blue feathers weaved into her hair. She did not have a mask on, though. Behind her left ear, there was a faint blue glow. “You see that because we’re in the Fade, and this is a memory I have,” She noted, “No one noticed.”

“You had it covered?”

“Old magic. A spell I knew.” She squeezed his hand again before letting go. Younger Cullen was watching the conversation Varric, Ashara and the others with interest.

“Why don’t I remember this?” He asked, staring at the sight.

“Simple: you were _very_ drunk,” Ashara laughed. She gestured towards her former self, who had started to sing a song that was on request of Varric. Her voice carried through the tavern sweetly, and most of those who were not listening to her before, certainly were now. She was singing in Elven, not anything he understood, and she was walking around as she sang.

She ruffled Varric’s hair and squeezed his shoulders as she sang, he was laughing at the interaction. She visited the bar, singing sweetly to the bartender, who gave her a free drink. And then, they watched as she continued her song, carrying the ale directly to Cullen in the corner. Younger Ashara set the mug down in front of him, and leaned forward to tease him, her fingers running down the side of his face, and let her fingers run down his chest before she stopped singing, and skipped away.

He seemed to reach out after her when she left and sunk back into his chair disappointed. The younger version of himself was very obviously drunk, and his eyes were blown wide, as he watched her skip away and she went back to Varric’s side and held out her hand.

Cullen looked to Ashara sitting next to him and raise an eyebrow. She shrugged. “He bet me that I couldn’t bring the young man in the corner out of his shell. Based on your reaction, I won.” She paused. “Varric didn’t know it was you, by the way. He was very drunk as well.”

“Maker, I don’t remember any of this. Was I really that drunk?”

“That, and me touching your face cast a memory spell on you.”

“ _What?”_

_“_ Kidding. I was…ruthless then, but I never did that. I…” Ashara looked down at her hands, “I never wanted to rob someone of the memories. Which is a sick joke, considering I did plenty of other bad things.”

Cullen nodded. “Solas said you got your memories back.”

She looked forward, not at Cullen. “Did he.” She straightened her shoulders, and moved to stand up. “I don’t want to be here anymore, come on.”

Ashara jumped off the ledge to the floor below, and Cullen followed, but when he landed they weren’t in The Hanged Man any longer. It was a vague area that he didn’t recognize. She was wearing her normal clothes she wore around Skyhold. The tether on her neck was glowing a bright blue. Her tether on her arm was glowing a mix of gold and silver.

He looked down to his chest to see a similar gold and silver light coming off his chest. “How…”

“It’s the Fade,” Ashara shrugged. “It pulls the magic out, puts it on display.”

He stepped towards her and put a hand on her shoulder, and for a moment she flinched under his touch, but relaxed. She turned to face him.

“Come back to Skyhold,” He said quietly, “We’re worried about you. _I’m_ worried about you.”

She inhaled sharply, and seemed to be holding her breath, but let it out slow. She stepped forward and rested a hand to his chest. “I’m not who you think I was. I’m not who I thought I was.”

“No matter what your memories showed you, you’re still _you_. You’re still the woman that I…” Cullen stopped for a moment and put his hand to cover hers on his chest. “That I fell in love with.”

“You…” She gasped, a sob escaping her throat, “How can you love me? If you knew what I have done…”

“I don’t care what you’ve done, Ashara, I care for who you are.”

“I don’t even know who I am anymore!”

“Then we figure it out together.”

She sobbed, cried out. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

He could feel something trying to push him away, something trying to get him to leave her, but he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against him. “I love you,” he said, with quiet confidence, “you will not lose me.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him tightly, “I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“Everything is about to change, I…”

“Ashara, please, just come back. Tell me where to find you. Please.”

She lifted her head and nodded, taking a step back and wiped away the tears from her eyes. “Go to the Eluvian. I’ll see you there.”

She leaned up to kiss him softly on the lips, and she disappeared into a magical swirl of silver light and blue feathers.

He woke up in his bedroom, and immediately ran to the ladder, sliding down it and ran out to the battlements, and down the stairs. He ran through the courtyard, not caring who he ran past, not caring who was watching him. When he reached the gardens, Morrigan was pacing in front of the door where the Eluvian was, and she tried to stop him.

“You do not know what you’re doing, Cullen,” She stood in front of him, and he glared at her.

“Excuse me? Morrigan, I suggest you get out of my way.”

“Or what, you’ll cut me down?”

“If I have to, yes.”

“You do not know what she’s capable of, you do not know what is pulling at her—”

Cullen shook his head and shoved Morrigan out of the way and opened the door. He closed it behind him, barricading it so Morrigan could not follow.

He recognized the room, even if the furniture was not here. He swallowed hard and looked to the Eluvian. It was dark.

“Ashara, please.” He silently begged and stepped towards the dark mirror.

He waited.

It felt like hours, and he wasn’t sure how long it was, but he heard the crackle of magic, and the mirror came to life. He saw her hand first, as she reached out through the mirror, and then the rest of her, until she was standing in front of him.

She immediately fell to her knees, and Cullen ran to be at her side, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m here.”

He kept repeating it, quietly, as she clung to him and sobbed, trying to remind her that he meant what he had said: no matter what her memories had given her, he was here. He ignored the questions on the back of his mind, he ignored the signs, he ignored what she showed him in the Fade.

There was no doubting now that she was what Leilana’s scouts found, and that wasn’t something he was sure he was prepared to deal with.

So, he lied to himself, told himself he wouldn’t leave, told himself that no matter what happened, he was hers.

And he believed it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a longer chapter, where ashara finally gets some much needed answers.

“The fire was limited just to the library in the lower levels. There is no other damage to report,” The scout spoke, reciting off his report to the War Council. Leilana, Josephine, and Cullen were standing behind the war table, while Ashara was leaning against the window in the corner of the room. Her eyes were cast to the ground, not looking at her advisors, or the scout.

“Is there anything else?”

“We did not manage to get anything out of the flames, but it also does not appear that there was anything valuable in there. We found parts of old Chantry books, but nothing we do not have copies of.”

Ashara’s eyebrow raised, though she kept quiet.

“Thank you, Scout Andrews, that will be all,” Cullen dismissed the scout, and the room was silent as the door open and shut.

Leilana was the first to look at Ashara, and the first to break the uncomfortably growing silence. “Inquisitor—”

“I don’t feel very Inquisitorial right now, Leilana,” Ashara said, as she rubbed the anchor in her hand. The magic, when it was seen, was running through her veins, causing her entire hand and arm to light up a brilliant green. It didn’t hurt, but it was stronger now. Ashara knew why. She didn’t want to explain it.

“Alright, fine. Ashara, what the hell happened?” Leilana asked, “Solas tells us your memories have returned and—”

“They did, and I do not want to talk about them.” Ashara snapped back immediately, looking up and glaring at Leilana. “Though something tells me you already somehow have information that I don’t want you to have.”

“Are you in trouble, Ashara?”

“No.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, and if I was, it would be no concern of the Inquisition. I am not in any more danger than I normally am thanks to this war.” Ashara sighed heavily, “Can we be done with this? I…need some time. To sort through everything.”

Leilana and Josephine nodded, but Cullen looked worried. Ashara’s eyes met his, and she sighed softly. “Cullen, if you have a moment?”

He nodded, as Leilana and Josephine left the room, the large door opening and shutting loudly before it was just the two of them in the room. He crossed over to her quickly, not hiding the concern on his face. “Are you alright?”

Ashara scoffed, and shook her head. “No. Not in the slightest, but I have a lot of things I need to figure out. Thank you for…helping me.” He had held her in that room until she stopped crying and shaking, he had escorted her back to her quarters, and rested beside her as she slept through the following day. He had watched over her, he had taken care of her, and all Ashara could think about was how she was corrupting him somehow. This man, who loved her and cared for her, and she was terrified of telling him how she felt.

Especially with all her memories back, everything was conflicting. Unresolved. She was avoiding a conversation that she needed to have.

“I told you that I would not leave your side, and I meant that.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“We deserve each other more than you think,” Cullen said quietly, and she reached for him, taking his hand in hers. “I know this is difficult. But I will be here when you want to talk.”

She inhaled sharply at that, “Cullen…”

“I mean that, Ashara. Trust me.”

“I do trust you. I just…” She let go of his hand and walked a little bit away from him, “I don’t know how I would react if you decided to walk away from me when I told you the truth.” She refused to look at him, but could hear the confusion in his voice, and the determination.

“Nothing you could say would make me walk away.”

“I hope that’s true,” She swallowed hard and turned back to him. “I need to sort some things out. Clean up the lower library, and apologize to…” She couldn’t even say Solas’ name in front of Cullen, because when she almost did, a different name almost came out. “But when I’m ready to tell you everything, I will. I promise.”

She crossed back over to him again and pressed a kiss gently on his lips. “Thank you, Cullen.”

“Of course,” He replied, but he looked sad. She couldn’t blame him, as she looked exactly the same. The truth needed to come out, but she needed to sort through it.

Ashara turned and left the war room.

***

She hadn’t gone to help clean the lower library like she had stated that she would. Going down there felt painful, it felt wrong, and she avoided it. In fact, she avoided everyone. It was far easier that way, than to face any sort of truth. Trying to put the pieces of her memory together, to consolidate who she had been with who she was now wasn’t easy.

The problem was, that she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to follow the plan anymore. There were questions she needed answers to, but that meant seeing Solas. And she _refused._ He tried to visit her a view times in the Fade, but she had blocked him from entry. If this was a conversation they were going to have, it needed to be in person. She refused to let him hide behind the comfort he had of the Fade, where he could manipulate things to his will. Where he was powerful and God-like. She didn’t care that he had taught her what she knew, that she had spent so many years at his side. She had never wanted her memories erased, and she should have never gone along with it. But to know that he was right in the Inquisition the whole time, lying to her face?

That had been why she punched him. It was what he had deserved. But it hadn’t made her feel any better, because she had been overwhelmed.

Ashara had never seen Fen’Harel in person. All their interactions, for years, was in the Fade, while he slumbered. And to have him right in front of her, someone that she had _loved_ was almost too much.

So, she avoided him. It wasn’t the most adult thing to do, it certainly wasn’t the Inquisitorial thing to do, but she was doing it all the same.

Spending most of her time in her quarters, she went through every book on the shelf, every paper on the desk. Every little nook and cranny of the room, she explored. If this really had been his castle once, had he left her clues? Something to remind her? Did he feel guilty about this situation? Was he capable of it?

But there was nothing there. And when she finally was done exhausting her search of the room, the moon was out and Skyhold was quiet. It was difficult to call this place home, when it had never really been hers in the first place. It was borrowed.

And she had been here before. Her memories confirmed that. She had walked these halls. She had ordered Agents to clean up the castle, to prepare it for something that Fen’Harel had planned, but she wasn’t privy to. It had been one of the few things he didn’t tell her, wasn’t honest with her about. She hadn’t understood why, but she also hadn’t asked.

Maybe she should have.

Unable to bare being in that room any longer, she descended the stairs and ended up in the main hall. The throne, was barely lit through the torches and the moonlight through the stained glass, and she stared at it. She had judged people, sitting on this throne, and she was merciful. She was kind. She did not take her decisions lightly. She recognized when there was a mistake, and tried to make people atone for them if they were remorseful.

Would she do the same now, if Solas asked?

She stared at the throne, before walking up to it and sitting down on it, crossing a leg over the other, and resting her chin on her hand. She was alone in the main hall, and preferred it – until she no longer was.

“I never liked the idea of a throne. It holds too much weight. All the burden, resting on that one chair.”

Ashara’s eyes glanced up and saw Solas approaching her. She sat up straight in the throne, her eyes narrowing for a moment, but he held up his hands in a truce.

“Peace, Ashara,” he said quietly, and despite the anger, her heart still squeezed tight. With the full return of her memories, to see the man she once loved finally in front of her physically was overwhelming. It hurt in a way she couldn’t describe. “You’ve been avoiding me.” When he reached the throne, he stopped a bit away from her, distance between them that she could sense he didn’t want. His magic aura was waving off of him emotionally, mixture of being scared and happy.

Her eyes looked down at the anchor, flexing her fingers for a bit, before shifting and standing up from the throne. “Yeah, I have been avoiding you.” She sighed heavily and allowed herself to look at his face. “Glad I didn’t give you a black eye,” she muttered.

“You did. I healed it.”

“Ah.”

“Ashara, I—”

“Do you know what it’s like to suddenly find out the last two years of your life are a lie? That everything you were, that you thought you were, was a complete and utter lie?” She took a step towards him, her voice starting to filter through hurt and anger, unable to settle on a compromise of the emotions. “You were here. The _entire_ time. And…I had no idea. You just…”

“Do you think this has been easy to live with?” He asked, throwing his hands in the air, and showing frustration. “To know who you really are, what we meant to each other, and never having you remember? To see you go through so much, to see you fear me?”

“You didn’t have to take my memories from me!” She snapped, her voice rising, before she realized how public they were. “You didn’t have to do that,” she continued her voice quieter. “I didn’t want it, I didn’t want to…”

“You have questions. I should answer them. But not here.”

“Then where, Fe—” She inhaled sharply, stopping herself from saying any of his names, and his eyes flashed with slight fear, which she hadn’t expected. “If we are speaking, it will be in person, physically. We are not going to where you have the upper hand.”

Solas nodded, “Then we go through the Eluvian.”

“Morrigan will—”

“There is another one.”

Ashara’s eyes went wide at the reveal, and then immediately narrowed, “Of course there fucking is. Anything else you’re hiding that you care to tell me?”

He sighed. “When we are away from prying ears and eyes.”

She stayed silent, but gestured for him to lead the way.

They walked in silence through the depths of the castle, past the lower library. The immediately feeling of guilt came over her as they walked past it, and she felt his eyes on her. “I had servants remove important things from the library before you returned to Skyhold,” he said, as if it was a consolation, “Nothing valuable was lost.”

She looked at him and nodded, but the guilt didn’t go away.

The lower in the castle they got, they finally got to a door that was warded off. A ward she recognized, knowing his magic, but had not seen before then. Though, she had never needed to go this far down.

He unlocked the ward, opening the door, and an Eluvian stood, glowing brightly. He gestured towards it, and Ashara hesitated. “Where are we going? We need to come back, this is not us leaving.”

“I promise you, we will come back.”

“Then where are we going?”

Solas offered a sad smile, “Home.”

He stepped through the mirror before her, and she took a deep breath and followed him through.

Reaching the other side, he locked the mirror behind them. In front of them was a beautiful and lush forest, the sun shining brightly through the trees. He walked the path in front of them, a bit worn down, but still obvious that many had walked here before. She followed, and as they got closer to their destination, she started to see the statues.

Statues of Mythal lined the path. At the gate were two of his own wolves, guarding it. It was a large estate villa, standing alone in the woods. He waved his hand at the gates, the magic barrier protecting it disappearing, and the gates clicked and opened on their own. He looked to her, to make sure she was still following him, and then continued to lead the way up the path and to the door of the villa.

When they entered, it was quiet. It was clean enough, but there was still some evidence that it had not been used in a long time. Items were boxed up, furniture had cloth over it to cover it. Paintings were leaning against the walls, half covered.

She ran her finger across the frame of a painting, pulling the covering back to see a painting of a wolf, with a blue bird resting on its head. Ashara swallowed hard, and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, she saw Solas watching her, with a sad look on his face. “Come, we can sit in here,” gesturing to the next room.

She let the cloth covering fall back over the painting, and followed him into the next room, where there was a fireplace and couches. He moved to light the fireplace, and she moved to a couch, but she did not sit.

“Why have I never seen this place before?” She asked, unable to stop looking around.

“I haven’t had access to it in a long time. The only way through had been the Eluvian in Skyhold. I was not powerful enough to open it, not until recently.”

“How recently?”

“The Winter Palace.”

Her eyes went wide with the realization, “ _Nislean'ean ma ghilana.”_ She repeated, “You took the Eluvians back from Briala.” She paused. “You killed her.”

Solas took a breath and shook his head, “I did, but it was to protect you. She had caught on to who you were. When she found out you were the Inquisitor, she told one of my Agents that she did not think was loyal to me. The Agent informed me, and I had to act. Her plan was to kill you, and blame it on Gaspard.”

Ashara scoffed, and ran a hand over her face. “I blamed Briala’s death on Florianne.”

“Yes.”

“You _let_ me.”

“It was necessary, though it was not the best. I could not tell you the truth.”

“You visited me in the Fade that night! You could have told me then!”

“How could I, when you were lying with _him_?” Solas snapped, his voice rising as he stepped away from the fireplace. “I was trying to regain anything I had with you, _anything_ and I did not want to cause you any pain.”

“Him? You…you mean Cullen?” Ashara laughed bitterly, and shook her head, “You didn’t tell me the truth, because you were _jealous_?”

The fire in Solas’ eyes was bright, but then seemed to die in an instant. He hesitated on answering, and Ashara shook her head.

“The great Dread Wolf himself, is jealous of the Commander of the Inquisition. If only Dorian were here to witness this.”

“Ashara—”

“Stop! Just… _stop_.” She sighed heavily and fell into the couch, and put her hands over her face for a moment. She felt the couch shift as he sat down next to her, but kept the distance between them. She sighed once more as she lifted her head, and unceremoniously dropped her hands to her lap. “This entire time, when I thought I was building a friendship with a man I had never known before, it was really you…who I’ve known almost my whole life.” She looked at her hands, wringing them together. “I’ll concede that this might not have been easy on you either. To have me look at you and have no recognition.”

Ashara looked at Solas just in time to see him look away, avoiding her look. “When I originally set this in motion, I didn’t think you would be without your memories for this long. You’d go to the Conclave, thinking you were there because you were curious. You’d get the Orb once he opened it and was killed in the blast, I’d restore your memories.”

“Why remove them at all?”

“I…feared you were only acting on what you thought I wanted you to do, not what you wanted to do.” He said, lifting his eyes, “Because of the tether.”

Her hand moved to the back of her neck, a feeling of guilt crossing over her. Solas continued.

“I should have, instead, just removed the tether. But I wasn’t a strong then as I am now. I…also didn’t want to. In all my years, you were the brightest spot in it. I started to doubt if this plan was worth it at all.”

“Well, it didn’t go as you wanted anyway, Solas,” She sighed, “He still has the Orb, and…” She lifted her hand as the anchor’s magic cracked. “This is spreading. I used to think that this was why I was using magic I had never used before, but…that’s not true either.”

He shook his head, “I taught you that magic, you learned some of it on your own, it was never the anchor.”

“I know. But I can’t exactly explain that to Dorian, can I? Oh don’t worry about it, my kind-of ex-boyfriend Ancient Not-God taught me this stuff, and I’m actually _way more powerful_ than you know, it’s fine!!” She scoffed, and shook her head but when she looked at Solas again he was looking at her with wider eyes.

“So, ex, huh?”

Ashara sunk into the couch at that, “I don’t want to even broach the subject of us right now.”

“Vhenan,”

“ _Don’t._ Please don’t, it…doesn’t feel right. It hurts.” She looked at him, confliction written all over her face. “I waited for _years_ to finally be with you like this. Physically, in the waking world. Where I could just have _you_. And part of me is so incredibly happy this is real. That _you_ are here.” Despite her better judgement, she reached over and took his hand in hers. “But…”

“But the Commander,” Solas said with understanding, though he didn’t like it.

“Yes. Cullen. I think I love him.”

Solas took his hand from Ashara’s and held it as if burned. “Ah.”

“This is what happens when I didn’t remember who I was! Solas, look at me.” He wouldn’t, so she tried another method as she stood up straighter, “Fen’Harel, _look at me_.”

His breath hitched as she called him that, and he stared at her.

“I have to have time to figure things out. I told Cullen the same thing, but he doesn’t have all the knowledge that you have. But he will.”

His eyes glowed angerly, “You cannot tell him—”

“I can. I will. I will tell him as much as I can because he deserves it. There is something going on, he was pulled into the Fade when we fell in Adamant. I showed him, when we first met. When I was who I used to be.”

“In Haven?”

“In Kirkwall. When I was looking for the Amulet.”

Solas’ featured softened a bit, “I did not know you met him then.”

She shrugged, “There was a lot that I did outside of the Fade that you don’t know about. A lot that I did in _your name_ that you don’t know about.”

Silence settled between them in the large sitting room, the crackling of the fire seemed miles away.

“Do you regret it?” He asked.

“I regret a lot of things. I don’t regret finally knowing you. I don’t regret us or what we were to each other. What we still _are_ to each other. I regret the violent actions I took when I was younger and foolish and didn’t know better.”

He gave a soft chuckle at that, “We are more alike than I remember.”

“So I’ve read,” She said, and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow, “Before I got my memories back I was reading up on the Dalish tales.” His eyes rolled and she shook her head, and swatted him in the arm. It resulted in a half smile from him. “But it is so…amazingly how _wrong_ they got you.”

“How wrong they got you as well.”

“Excuse me? I’m not in any Dalish tales, that makes no sense.”

“You are.” He shifted on the couch to face her more, “It was something I was going to try to find a way to tell you, but in the Emerald Graves, Agents of the Inquisition found stories about ‘The Wolf and his Blue Bird’. They mention you by name, along with me. You’re another story of warning to them.”

“How…”

“How do I know? Or how did they write them?”

“Both.”

“I know it is in Leilana’s possession because of my Agents within the Inquisition.”

Ashara’s expression changed quickly, “You have Agents _in the Inquisition._ Hell, do you still consider me your Agent? Did they know about me the whole time!? Are you daft?!”

“No, they did not know who you are and they will not know who you are. They don’t even know who _I_ am. And I don’t…you’re…Ashara, I’ve given you no orders. Everything that you have done, is you and you alone.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I am sorry, but it is the truth.”

“I have a question.” She said, sighing, “We have to defeat Corypheus and we have to get your Orb back. We’re getting closer to that by the day.”

Solas nodded.

“So what then. Do we continue down the path we were going? Do we restore the people? Do we destroy this world?”

Solas hesitated, starting to answer, but did not. Ashara looked at him expectantly. He sighed in frustration, and carefully considered his words. “Perhaps there is another way to restore them. But once you defeat Corypheus, we cannot stay. If we are to find a way to restore the people, but not destroy this world, we must be able to work without the eyes of those who would not understand.”

He paused, and he looked at Ashara, “Nislean'ean, are you still with me on this?”

It was a loaded question, memories of her life before and her life now blending together. It seemed his way of thinking had changed, but she needed to see more of it to believe it. Was she still with him? Was she still his _Nislean'ean?_

“If there is another way, to _not_ destroy this world, then yes.”

He seemed to sigh in relief. “I am glad.”

“What happens to the anchor once we get your Orb back?”

She watched as his eyes darted to her hand, and he reached out to take it into his own. He traced the lines of magic moving under her skin, and she swallowed hard at the intimacy of the touch. He noticed this, but he did not say anything. “Ordinarily, anyone other than myself would not be able to use the anchor. It would eventually kill them.”

“Meaning…so this is going to kill me? Your magic is going to—” She could feel her anger rising but he cut her off.

“No, I went through preventative motions to make sure that wouldn’t happen.” He lifted his eyes, and with his other hand, touched the Wolf Jaw necklace around his neck.

She remembered him taking the necklace and stabbing her hand with it, and everything going black. “You…”

“I gave you a piece of me, to stop the magic from hurting you. It will not hurt you, nor will it kill you. And the anchor is so ingrained in you now, it is not just my magic anymore. It’s evolved. It’s _ours,_ though more you than I. We still need the Orb, to help you control it. Without a foci for too long, it might become uncontrollable. Overcome you. But I have faith we will succeed. That _you_ will succeed.” He let go of her hand. “I promised you when we first met that you would always have a choice. That your actions would always be your own. I stand by that, even if I made plenty of mistakes along the way.”

She nodded, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay. Despite everything, I…I still trust you.” It felt strange to have those words come out. It felt strange not to struggle with that. She wondered if others would understand, when she told them. If she told them. For a moment, her mind drifted to Cullen. Uncertain of what he would think. 

He nodded, and stood up, “We should get back to Skyhold. I believe the sun should be rising now, we don’t want people wondering where we went.”

He held out his hand for her to take, and she took it, standing up and realizing how close they were together. His sleeve had fallen up his arm in the motion, revealing his tether to her, a brilliantly bright blue bird, with the shadow of a wolf behind it. She moved to push his sleeve up more to look at it, and she swallowed hard. “I never thought I’d see this in person.”

“I know.”

“But it’s not…a romantic one, it never had been.”

His voice sounded a little heavier in reply, “I know that as well. But I fell in love with you anyway.”

She felt her eyes watering up, as she tried to clear her throat, “I know.” She sighed out, and looked up at him, and reached up to touch his cheek. He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes.

They stayed like that for a moment, his eyes opening once more, and both of them unwilling or wanting to move. And she knew, she knew that if the world hadn’t become more complicated, if she only loved him and him alone, this would be an easy choice.

But instead she carefully backed away. “Let’s go.”

He silently nodded and lead the way back through the woods and the Eluvian, back to Skyhold.

They returned to Skyhold just as the rest of it was waking up. Solas watched as Ashara locked the Eluvian with the passcode, and she saw the small hint of a smile on his lips when she did it. When he was done, and the mirror went dark once more, they left the room and warded it. There was not much time before the rest of Skyhold was busy, and she had to face the music.

As they reached the door to the main hall, she put her hand on the door handle and paused. “One more question,” She said, and he gave off a light chuckle.

“Only one?”

“For now,” She said with a similar chuckle. But then her smile faded, “Why _Nislean'ean ma ghilana?_ Why invoke me? I am not…I’m not in the Pantheon, nor would I want to be. No one knows me.”

“Those to matter, do.”

“Your Agents? Or just you?”

Solas gave a wry smile, and a shrug. “It was safe, a phrase no one could get.”

“And?”

“And perhaps I just like remembering your name.”

Ashara swallowed hard, and felt her cheeks redden. “That’s…not fair, Solas. You can’t do that.”

He took a step forward, “I’m sorry, I…will try to restrain myself.”

“ _Friends_ , Solas.”

He nodded, “Of course.” But she knew that familiar tone in his voice. It wasn’t one she wanted to deal with right now.

She pushed the door open, and let Solas go out in front of her, and he took his leave towards the rotunda. She waited a beat, and took the path up to her quarters. Cleaning up, getting ready for the day, preparing for questions and anything else that may happen. She was making a mental note of things, of what she needed to do, who she needed to talk to. Varric would want to know she remembered him fully now, he’d get a kick out of that. She wanted to give Dorian some information too.

But when she opened the door to her quarters, she found someone else waiting for her.

“Cole?” The young man was standing in front of the fireplace, and took his hat off his head when she came in, holding it between his hands. She had expected him to say something, but he instead stayed quiet. As if he was waiting for something.

Like her remembering when she was young, and the wisp of Compassion guiding her through the Fade and showing her what it was like to navigate. Showing her other friendly spirits, introducing her to Wisdom. Giving her advice when she was sad, and supporting her when she was scared. Helping her when she needed it.

“Oh, _Cole,”_ Ashara gasped out, feeling the memories coming to her like a flood, and rushed him. She put her arms around him and hugged him, and he did not know how to react.

“This is a hug.” He said quietly, as he returned it finally, and Ashara laughed. “You remember.”

“Yes, my dear Compassion, it is. And yes, I remember.”

“He worries when she is gone. Shakes in the night but is calm when she holds him. He does not like the nights alone. _Maker, how can I reach her? Please don’t let her push me away._ He waits for you to come to him. He tries to force a smile when greeting others in the morning. _I miss her_.”

She swallowed hard and broke the hug, taking a step back. “Was that…?”

Cole nodded, “Cullen, yes. I have been helping him.”

“You have?”

“Yes. Since Adamant. He needs guidance. He does not understand. Your magic, it is making the tether stronger. Pulls him in towards you, no matter the distance. He worries you’ll cut the thread.”

“Since Adamant. Wait, since he was poisoned? Since I…” Her hand moves to her lips for a moment and shifts on her feet. “I don’t know how to explain to him.”

“You will find a way.” Cole offers a nod, putting his hat back on his head. “Or something else will do it for you.”

“Something—” But Ashara doesn’t get to finish the question before Cole is gone completely. It doesn’t bother her, like it did before when she didn’t remember him. Her old friend, perhaps her _oldest_ friend.

Once more, she finds the return of memories overwhelming her. But the sun is rising and Skyhold is awake, and she doesn’t have time to dwell. She bathes, she dresses, she pulls her hair up and braids it around her head like a crown.

It’s not until she looks in the mirror that she realizes she’s set her hair exactly how she used to years ago. She remembers late nights in the Fade, sitting on the stone ground of the castle as Fen’Harel – no, Solas – sits behind her and braids her hair. He eventually taught her how, and she started to weave in colorful feathers, but soon only uses blue. It’s part of the reason that calling her bluebird sticks. It’s a notion of pride for her.

The memory fades and it feels like she’s been violently ripped into the present. Trying not to tear up, she pulls out the braids, she removes the little things she’s weaved in, and she opts to just pull her hair back, and up into a bun. Her hands shake, and she needs a moment to breathe, to compose herself.

It’s not the time to get lost in the past. She can’t. She needs to focus on her future, she needs to focus on _the_ future. Stopping Corypheus, getting the Orb back. Restoring…

Does she even _want_ that anymore? She wants to bring the People back to what they were, to rise them from what they are now, but not at the sake of destroying everything. She’s not sure if she trusts Solas’ new view, that perhaps the world can be saved and they can still achieve their end goal.

And there is far more at stake now.

She walks out on one of the balconies, the one that overlooks Skyhold, the gardens, and the battlements. She has friends here. She has _family_ here, the one thing that she had always wanted. The one thing she craved as a youth, and only wanted more as an adult. It feels like home. Even though she has been here before, before the Conclave, before losing her memories. It had just been a place before. Now, she didn’t want to leave.

Her eyes scan the people below, working, chatting, going about their morning. In the distance, she sees the door to Cullen’s office open. He walks out, his armor shinning in the sun, as he fixes the fur around his neck to raise up a little bit. He runs a hand over his face; he’s tired. She wants to call out, yell to him, but she doesn’t. He’s too far away, and she finds that she hates the distance.

She hates the distance from him.

The realization hits her like a Halla running at full speed, and she feels the breath knocked out of her. He is the calm before the storm, and the calm after it. He is the reason she’s excited to start the day, and he is the reason she keeps fighting. She doesn’t want to imagine a day without him. She doesn’t want to imagine a life without him.

Cullen is a reason to make sure this world survives.

But he still needs to learn the truth. Who she really is, what she really is…and that thought sobers her.

She doesn’t want to lose him. And she’s terrified she will.

***

It’s not until later in the day that she enters the War Room. Morrigan is in the middle of bickering with Cullen, who is sneering at her. Josephine is trying to keep the peace, and Leilana isn’t helping by edging Morrigan on.

“What’s going on here?” Ashara questioned, but the bickering doesn’t stop – it is as if they don’t hear her.

“—if you honestly think that we are going to let you just march down there by yourself, then Maker, I—”

“Commander, you think that Corypheus is going to wait? He is seeking the Eluvian there, and we have to get there before he does!”

“What makes you so sure we can trust you?” Cullen snaps, and Ashara sighs.

“Hello, the Inquisitor is here!” She yells loudly over their voices and finally the bickering stops. Morrigan looks at Ashara annoyed, where Cullen looks more modest and embarrassed, his face flushing slightly. “What Eluvian, Morrigan?”

The witch doesn’t say anything, she just glares.

Ashara rolls her eyes. “Still angry I controlled yours?”

Morrigan crosses her arms over her chest. “Yes.”

“ _Good,”_ Ashara replies with her eyes narrowed, and approaches the war table, “Get over it.” Before Morrigan can bicker again, Ashara adds, “But, and I cannot believe I am saying this, but I agree with Morrigan. If there is an Eluvian wherever you are talking about, then we need to get there first.” She pauses. “So….where is this?”

Leilana puts her hands on her hips, “The Arbor Wilds. In a place called the Temple of Mythal.”

In another life, one that she is only getting memories of, she was far better at steeling her reactions. But, Ashara’s reaction to those words, it’s of surprise. “Mythal was one of our Ancient Gods,” She says, her voice in shock, “Why…” She blinks, “We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“We need an army to meet Corypheus there, Inquisitor, how—” Josephine starts, but Ashara cuts her off.

“Work together. Make it so we can get our forces there, but we _must_ beat him there. I will not see another relic of my people lost to those who do nothing but harm.” She is unable to help the emotion in her voice. “Do we know where he is, how far out he is?”

“No, but—”

“Find out. Cullen, what of that information we provided about the Red Templars?”

He nods, and starts a report about the supply, how they already sent out an army to take care of it. That all roads lead to one place, where Samson holds as a headquarters. “My duties usually leave me here, but for Samson, I will make an exception.”

Ashara nods, “Then we’ll go together. Make your preparations, we will leave today. Josephine, start sending word to our allies that they need to start the march towards the Arbor Wilds. Leilana, send out your Agents ahead, I don’t want anything standing in our way. Cassandra will help lead the troops to the Arbor Wilds, Cullen and I will meet up once we are done with Samson.”

There was an expression on Cullen’s face that Ashara couldn’t figure out, but instead of possibly saying what had been on his mind, he nodded, “On your orders, it will be done.”

She nodded. “Great. Come see me when you’re done, Cullen, so we can head out.” She smiled at him, and turned to leave the room, to let them get to work. Once the door shut, she could hear Morrigan yelling once more, but then heard a commanding voice telling her to shut up. There wasn’t time to dwell on it though, as much as she would have liked to listen in more on that conversation.

The walk to the main hall was quick, as she headed towards Varric, and waved him to follow her, “With me, this is important.”

“Sure, Blue,” He nodded, setting his papers down and following her into the rotunda, where Solas was working on one of the paintings.

“Solas, I brought Varric here because I need both of you to work together on something for me.” It felt strange, to be the one giving orders, when she knew Solas for who he really was now. But he didn’t show any indication that it bothered him, and perhaps he reveled in it a little.

Varric leaned against Solas’ desk and looked at Ashara, “What’s going on?”

“I’ve gotten word thar Corypheus has set his sights on the Arbor Wilds.” She crossed her arms, and looked from Varric to Solas, “to the Temple of Mythal.”

Solas’ eyes widened slightly, and she noticed his breathing quickened only a little, but other than that did not change his composure. “Why would he go there?”

“Morrigan believes he is after an Eluvian there. To use to get into the Fade.”

“Andraste’s tits, are you sure?” Varric asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “This doesn’t sound very good.”

“No,” Solas added, “It does not.”

Ashara started to pace around the rotunda as she spoke, wringing her hands together. “The Inquisition will be marking on the Arbor Wilds immediately to try to reach and set up camp before he does. But there is a lead on Samson, and Cullen and I are going to leave today to go and see what we find. If this is a way to slow down the red templars, it can buy us more time at the Temple.”

“Blue, slow down!” Varric raised his arms up, but it didn’t stop Ashara from pacing, “What do you need us for, then?”

“I do not trust Morrigan. At all. I need you both to keep an eye on her, especially you, Solas.” She exhaled deeply, and stopped pacing, and suddenly seemed unsure on what to do with her hands. “Varric, in Kirkwall…”

The dwarf’s eyes lit up, “Maker, Blue, do you remember?”

She nodded. “I do. We can celebrate later, but in Kirkwall, remember what I had asked you to help me find?”

As she spoke, she ignored the glare that Solas was giving her and Varric and was thankful that Varric’s back was to Solas. “Yeah, the...”

“Amulet of Mythal. Did your contacts ever come through on the location of it once I left Kirkwall?”

Varric went quiet for a moment, “That was years ago. I’d have to go through my papers.”

“Do it, please. I need confirmation, but I think it’s in the ruins of the Arbor Wilds.”

Solas shifted behind Varric, and Ashara raised her eyes to meet his. He chose his words carefully as he spoke. “Inquisitor, are you certain what you are looking for is there?”

“Yes. Let’s just say that I’ve had my memory jogged, recently.” She’d have to explain, later. How she knew, and it wasn’t a discussion to have now. He had held secrets from her, she was going to let herself keep this one. If just for a little while.

Varric nodded, and headed towards his door, “Alright, Bluebird, I’m going to see what I find out, but Chuckles and I will get what you need done. Promise.”

“Thanks, Varric. I know I can trust you both.”

“Inquisitor, can we have a moment?” Solas asked, with a reaction that showed he was going to be angry, that he demanded answers.

She inhaled, and exhaled, and nodded. “Sure.” Varric left the room, and Solas immediately walked towards her, fire behind his eyes.

“ _You knew where the Amulet was?”_ He asked her in rapid fire Elven, and crossed his arms over his chest, “ _You didn’t tell me_ ”

“ _I would have told you, if you hadn’t taken my damn memories away!”_

“ _That is not the point, this could have been—”_

_“You never even told me what it did! I—”_

He threw his hands up in anger, _“Erasing your memories could have been avoided! All of this could have been avoided! The orb, everything!”_

Ashara’s eyes softened from the anger, as she cleared her throat, slipping back into common. “What?”

“You heard me,” came his reply, and he ran his hand over his face. He sighed, “I’ll do as you asked, and keep an eye on her. Do what you need to, Inquisitor.”

“Solas,” She started, and he shook his head.

“Go. We’ll see you in the Arbor Wilds,” and it was his turn to leave before her, heading out of the room to meet up with Varric.

Ashara blinked a few times, watching Solas go, before she closed her eyes and shook her head. She was tired of the complications that were coming left and right now that she had everything back. It was a step forward, and fifty steps back at this rate.

But there were things to do, and she had to get everything ready for her and Cullen to ride out that night. She was choosing now to focus on that and worry about everything else later.

She left to go to see to the stables and didn’t see Dorian leaning over the banister on the second level watching her with concern. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm about 5 to 6 chapters ahead of what is posted, so have another one! this story has taken on a different path than i had expected when i started it, and i am so happy you are all joining me on this ride! 
> 
> i've also started working on a different one (modern with a 'twist') that may be posted in the next few weeks depending on how far ahead on that i get :) 
> 
> as always, thank you for reading, leaving kudos, and comments! i may not reply to all of them, but i do see and love them all <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little angst, a little fluff, a little plot...mix it together and you get this chapter

While the rest of the Inquisition and Allies headed for the Arbor Wilds, a small group went towards Samson’s last location. Cullen, Ashara, Dagna, and Iron Bull. It was an odd mash of people, but Ashara wanted Dagna to come along if there was anything, she could use to counteract the red lyruim, having had success with creating other lyrium-based runes. Bull came along, for the protection of Dagna, and (as Ashara put it), look intimidating.

Cullen was not one to let this opportunity go to waste – if they were capable of landing a blow against Corypheus by getting to Samson, then he would do it.

The four of them rode for three days straight. Bull told dirty jokes and wild stories, and somehow Dagna managed to upstage Bull with her wild stories. They debated about random and stupid things (could a Halla and a Bear fight equally? Or would that battle be over before it began?) and it passed the time. When any of them were feeling tired, Ashara would cast a spell over them – despite Bull’s grumbling against magic use – and keep them moving on the road.

On the fourth day, by the afternoon, they could see the Shrine of Dumat in the distance. It would only take them an hour to reach it, perhaps less. It was a good opportunity to make a camp deep in the surrounding woods and keep watch of the coming and going from the building.

Once the tents were set up, in the afternoon Cullen and Bull rested while Ashara and Dagna took watch. Bull had managed to fall asleep under a tree, not even making it into his tent. Cullen opted to try the tent for privacy. Usually, sleep was hard for Cullen, and did not come easily. But not sleeping for three days, and knowing his body needed the rest for the potential fight to come against Samson, he passed out easily.

He found himself dreaming of Skyhold. Specifically, standing in the middle of the courtyard, but with no one else around. He _felt_ it was the middle of the day, but there was no way for him to tell. If it was, why was the keep empty?

He walked along the paths, up the stairs, around the bend towards the Tavern, but found the door locked. He went next to the blacksmith, but that door was also locked. Every door he tried to get him back inside the castle was locked.

He ran towards the stairs leading up to the main entrance, only to find drops of blood at the foot of the stairs. Mixed in it, was a blue feather.

Cullen felt his heart quicken and he ran up the steps, following the trail of blood. The main doors were shut, but at the front of them was someone hunched down, covered in blood.

He heard the voice calling out for help, and he swallowed hard. “Ashara?” His voice didn’t sound right. It sounded frail, and weak. It sounded scared.

Ashara raised her head and her eyes glowed white. She was bleeding, blood splattered in her hair, gashes in her arms. Blue feathers on the ground around her. “We did it, but at what cost?” She was crying. Blood was dripping down her neck.

A faint growling came from behind Cullen, and a black wolf walked up the stairs, and rested at Ashara’s feet. It nuzzled it’s head towards her, and she hugged around his neck tightly, “There was another way,” She was crying, “There was a better way!”

“A better way for what?” Cullen asked, but she didn’t hear him.

Instead she looked at the wolf, “We restored what was, but…we failed, and the dead…” and continued sobbing.

“Who is dead?” Cullen asked again, as he kneeled down to try to reach her.

This time, both Ashara and the wolf looked at him, both of them with glowing eyes. “You were the first sacrifice.”

Then the wolf grew large, and lunged at Cullen, and everything went black.

He woke up screaming, and immediately threw his hand over his throat, as the tent opened and Ashara came running in. “Cullen, are you okay?”

He swallowed hard, and blinked, remembering where he was. He touched the ground beneath him, and as Ashara got closer, he reached out and touched her wrist and sighed in relief when his hand did not phase through it.

“Cullen?” Ashara asked again, and when he looked at her, it wasn’t the Ashara in his dream. This was the real deal, and she was looking at him with worry. “Was it another nightmare? Are you…”

He nodded, and moved his hand from her wrist, and stood up. “Yes, but I’m okay now. I promise. Sometimes they just feel very real.” It was easier to evade telling the truth, than actually explaining what he saw. It hadn’t been her, he had to remind himself that. She was real in front of him now.

But in the dream, with the bloody feathers around her, the parting words…he needed to shake that from his mind.

He stepped away from her, rubbing his eyes. “How long was I out?”

“Most of the afternoon and night, it’s late.” She shrugged, “Do you want to keep watch with me?”

“Have you not rested? You should really—”

She smiled sweetly at him. “I rested already. Don’t worry. I’m letting Dagna sleep now. Bull was already up and about a few hours ago, you’re the one that seemed to really need the sleep.”

He simply made a sound of agreement, as he adjusted his cloak, and grabbed his sword. He nodded towards the outside, and Ashara left the tent first, with Cullen quickly following behind.

There was a small fire in the middle of the camp, not large enough to grab attention from any enemies that may be around, but large enough that they could still see. Bull was practicing with his axe in the distance, and Dagna was in a tent sleeping.

Ashara grabbed her staff as they exited the tent, and she leaned on it like a walking stick or cane. It was a mannerism he had noticed that Solas used regularly, but he hadn’t seen any other mage do that. Perhaps it was just a testament to how close they were.

Just thinking that stirred up a jealousy that Cullen didn’t want to acknowledge. But he looked to Ashara and she smiled towards him, and that feeling went away. It was astonishing to him just what being around her would do to him. He didn’t want to be apart from her. He didn’t want to lose her. And lately, that was all he was worried about.

They hadn’t spoken much about the memories she regained, because they hadn’t had the time. She had shown him when they first met, but they had not spoken of anything else. She seemed more confident in herself, more certain of what she was doing. Cullen on the other hand, felt conflict and uncertainty. He was not a mind reader. He was thankful, most of the time, that he was not. But with Ashara, especially now, he wanted to be.

The two of them walked around the edge of the camp, keeping watch to the Shrine in the distance, not much movement coming out of it. The silence between them was comfortable, and it was only broken by her humming a song.

The song she had sung to him years ago in Kirkwall.

“What is that song about?” He asked, as they stopped walking around and took a point on a hill overlooking the camp and the Shrine. They were still under cover of the trees, a more advantageous position than they had been in before.

She leaned against her staff, “It’s an old song about a man who fell in love with a woman above his station. It tells of their love and the adventures they had to overcome their obstacles. It doesn’t really end on a good note though.”

“What happens at the end?” He stood at attention, keeping an eye around them, as she spoke. Similar to how he watched over the recruits at Haven or Skyhold. Or, he tried the best he could, but found himself distracted being near her.

“They get married in the snow in the dead of night before he is called to war. He dies in the war, and she dies of a broken heart shortly after,” Ashara chuckled, “It’s not a positive song, but I always loved how it sounded. 

Cullen laughed, and rubbed the back of his neck, “Maker, that’s not uplifting at all. But I suppose if you don’t know Elven, it just sounds pretty. It did when you showed me the memory.”

“I think drunk you liked it too,” She winked, and took a step towards him. “The last line of the song roughly translates to _We did it, but at what cost?_ , in that they followed their hearts and married, but it didn’t save them in the end.”

The smile on his face faded instantly, and he swallowed hard. His immediate change in reaction, caused her to reach to his arm, and her tone changed. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“I heard…the nightmare I had; you said those words.”

“What words?”

“We did it, but at what cost.” He cleared his throat, “You were covered in blood, and in the ground had,” he paused, considering what he saw. Should he tell her about the blue feathers? Should he tell her that he knew about the new stories? What Leilana told him? “There was something else there, but I can’t remember what. Then I woke up.”

Her hand fell from his arm and she grasped onto her staff tightly with both hands. Her eyes seemed to go a little darker. Sadder. “That’s a terrible nightmare, Cullen, I’m sorry.”

“You do not need to apologize, Ashara,” He said softly, stepping closer to her, and rested his hand on her shoulder. “It was a nightmare, nothing more. You’re here, and you’re alive. That is what matters.”

She leaned into his touch, as she let go slightly of her staff and moved in closer to him. He shifted his arm, so it wrapped around her shoulders, and held her against them as they kept watch. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you everything about who I used to be,” she finally said, a voice so quiet it was almost carried away in the wind.

“I told you already, it doesn’t matter who you were. Who you are _now_ is what matters,” He pressed his lips to her forehead, letting his eyes close for a moment. She shifted closer to him then, and he felt her sigh. “If you want to tell me, I will be here to listen. But you don’t judge me by my past. I certainly won’t judge you for yours.”

She moved away from him, and he feared that somehow he had said the wrong thing, but instead was greeted by her lips softly on his, a tender kiss seeking a reply. He gave one eagerly, holding onto her as much as she would let him. The kiss was short, but sweet, and left him smiling.

He was pleased to see she had a smile as well. “I want to tell you everything. I’m going to. I just need more time to figure out _how._ But, I promise you, Cullen, I’ll tell you. I don’t want secrets between us.”

“I don’t either, I—”

“Cullen! Ashara! Red Templars!” Bull’s voice boomed, and Cullen tore his eyes away from Ashara to see movement from the Shrine of Dumat, and smoke bellowing from one of the towers.

“We have to get going!” Ashara yelled back, “Wake Dagna, we’re going now!”

The two of them ran down the hill and through the camp, Bull and Dagna following them. Bull grabbed Dagna and threw her over onto his shoulder, as she got her grenades ready.

They immediately ran into fleeing Red Templars and worked together to take them down in quick succession. Cullen and Ashara fought alongside each other, while Bull and Dagna were gleefully laughing as he wacked people with his axe and Dagna threw Jars of Bees. Taking down the small wave, they knew they couldn’t stop and kept moving forward.

Breaching the fortress walls to the Shrine of Dumat was surprisingly _too easy_ but that wasn’t to say there wasn’t a small group of people waiting for them.

“Now we’re talking!” Bull called out, and Dagna let out a yell, “CHARGE!!!” Bull laughed as they went head towards the Red Templars, Dagna pulling out the bow on her back and firing off arrows as Bull did his thing.

Cullen and Ashara had broken off to fight separately, taking off those who were either coming towards Bull and Dagna or shooting arrows from above, but as the enemy got closer, Cullen and Ashara found themselves backing up against each other again. They didn’t say anything, only looked at each other and nodded, and soon were fighting back to back like they had in Adamant.

The battle was short, and they ran up the stairs to the door. Cullen moved to open it, to only have a red crystalized arm grab him immediately at the throat as the doors opened and started to slam him into the wall.

“Cullen!” He heard Ashara scream out, as he felt the Behemoth toss him like a rag doll, sending him sliding down the stairs and landing at the bottom. Dagna leaped off Bull’s shoulders to run down to Cullen, but as he struggled to sit up all he could see was how angry Ashara was.

How she called down the magic of the anchor and tore the Behemoth to dust, and ran inside the temple with Bull to clear out the rest.

He coughed, as Dagna gave him a potion and he downed it quickly, standing up and shaking it off, running into the temple.

Everything was on fire.

Everything was destroyed.

Someone had tipped Samson off.

“I think we have a spy, Commander,” Dagna muttered, taking in the state of the building and Cullen gave an affirmative grunt, and sighed deeply.

They made it up to Ashara and Bull, and Ashara nodded to the side. There was a man sitting there. A man Cullen recognized. “It’s Maddox…” Cullen said softly, as he kneeled down in front of him. “Samson’s tranquil.”

There wasn’t much life to Maddox left, but Cullen didn’t need him to speak to know what happened here. He had burned the place to the ground, out of loyalty to Samson.

“Why? You know who he serves! You know what he has become!”

“He wants to help make a new world, a better one. I trust him.”

“Maddox,” Cullen begged, but the man shook his head.

“I will not tell you where he has gone.” Then, he passed away.

Cullen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and slowly stood up. “Why. Why, after all this time, after what he had become…”

Bull huffed, “Sometimes, people will follow their leaders to their deaths, even if they know it’s not the right thing.”

“It’s a mistake, is what it is. A waste.”

“People make mistakes, Commander.” Bull shrugged, putting a hand on Cullen’s shoulder, “Some folks just choose not to learn from them.” The Qunari looked to Dagna, “Come on, let’s look around, see what we can find. Gotta be something around here your crazy mind can use.”

Cullen was too distracted, looking at Maddox dead on the ground, to noticed that Ashara had come up next to him.

“Are you alright? Are you…” He could hear her clearing her throat, inhaling sharply. She looked at the man at their feet. “He deserves a proper burial.”

Cullen nodded. “He does. Following Samson like this, the loyalty he had…he lost his way. He did not deserve this.”

“No one deserves this,” Ashara said quietly, “I’ll send word for someone to come and bury him. If, that’s alright with you?”

“I’d rather bury him myself,” He said, surprising himself. “We can bury him under a tree, outside of these walls. This should not be where he turns to dust.”

“I’ll help you,” She says, and he finally looks at her and nods.

“Guys, I think I found something!” Dagna calls out. It seemed the night, as eventful as it was, was not over yet.

As Dagna worked with Maddox’s tools and the supplies she brought back at their camp outside of the Shrine of Dumat, Ashara, Cullen, and Bull worked to put Maddox to rest.

Bull and Cullen dug a grave near a tree that Ashara figured was the oldest and most protective. “It has good strong roots, and will help guide him to the next world,” She had said, but Cullen didn’t ask how she knew that. It just seemed like a nice thing to say. It was a nice thing to hear. He hated to see that Maddox had come to this. That Samson had fallen so far.

If he had stayed with the Order, if he had done what Meredith had wanted, would he have been the same?

He didn’t want to think on it.

Bull gently placed Maddox into the grave, and the three of them worked to gently move the soil back over him. Ashara put down a protective barrier from those who might try to loot though there was nothing of monetary value there. She mentioned the spell would last at least a month, that it wasn’t much, but it was the least that she could do. He didn’t ask how she knew the spell, but he imagined that she new a lot of spells he didn’t. He wasn’t a mage. There was a lot about the world he didn’t know.

Bull had wandered back to the camp, and Ashara had placed a hand on his shoulder before following Bull. Giving him time alone to reflect.

But he didn’t want to reflect.

He wanted this to be over.

He wanted to confront Samson for what he had done, for leading so many Templars astray. He wanted to kill Corypheus with his own two hands, if he could. Every time he thought the world might have some peace, there was always someone trying to fuck it up. And, there was always someone falling corrupt to the power. It frustrated him. Five steps forward, even more steps back. Always the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Which was what Ashara had said to him in Haven, about the Conclave, about the anchor. But now? She had used it to her advantage. They had become a force to be reckoned with.

He was proud to be the Commander of the Inquisition, especially if it meant that they could help bring order back to Thedas. Bring _peace_.

He finally left the gravesite and wandered back into the camp, where he found the three of them sitting around the small fire telling stories. They were laughing, sharing a bottle of mead that Bull had brought along with them.

As he approached the camp, Ashara caught his eye and smiled, and patted the ground next to her.

He placed his sword on the ground first, and lowered himself to the ground and sat next to her. When he did, she held out her hand for him. He took it, without hesitation.

Dagna made an approving sound, where Bull just shook his head towards her. They continued to tell stories as Dagna worked. Old stories of their lives.

He had been around Ashara when these conversations happened before, but she never contributed. She had never been able to remember her life before. But now?

“…and I made sure to grab a few pies from the kitchen as I ran past. He was coming close up to me, so I just turned around and started throwing pies right at his face!” Ashara was laughing, her hand still tight around Cullen’s hand, warm and grounding him.

“You’re shitting me,” Bull laughed, slapping his knee, “What happened?”

“Well, I had really _terrible_ aim, so the first two pies only hit his sides and then the floor. The third one hit his face as he was running towards me, so he couldn’t see. Slipped on one of the pie messes on the floor, and slid right into the wall, knocking him out! I _obviously_ got away, but that was so damn close.”

“That’s one way to avoid the advances of a Noble,” Dagna snickered.

Ashara laughed, “What else was I going to do? Become a Noblewoman? Or worse, a _Queen_? Ugh, no thank you. If I ever become royalty, you know something is wrong.”

Cullen chuckled, “Luckily for all of us, you did not take the throne from Celene.”

“She can keep that one, it has decades of blood on it,” She scrunched her nose up in disgust, and then laughed once more.

Dagna got up from where she was working, and came back over to the fire, “Alright! I think I did it!” She walked over to Cullen and held out a rune. “It’s a one-time thing, but this should do it!”

He took the rune in his hand, and stared at it. He could hear the red lyrium singing in the rune. He let go of Ashara’s hand and flipped the rune over, before he handed it back to Dagna. “If you think this will work, then I trust you.”

“Think? Commander, I _know_!” Dagna took the rune back, “I have a protective covering out of nugskin I’ll put over it, so we can carry it with us – won’t corrupt us that way!” Her tone, happy and cheerful, was far too much for the situation, but he could feel Ashara next to him just chuckling. He supposed that was just how Dagna was.

“You guys get some rest,” Bull said, “I’ll take first watch.”

Ashara stood up from the ground, brushing herself off, and nodded. “Agreed. We have another week of riding from here to meet up with those in the Arbor Wilds. Think they’ve made it yet?”

“Maybe. But we should leave in the morning,” Cullen stood as well, picking up his sword. He moved towards another tent, one he had been sharing with Bull, but Ashara reached out and touched his arm.

“With me,” She said softly, “If you don’t mind?”

“Of…of course,” Cullen nodded, “I mean, that I don’t mind.”

They retreated into the tent, and Cullen was thankful that Bull didn’t make any comments, and Dagna was too busy with her tools to say anything. It was nice feeling comfortable around those he traveled with.

They stripped of their armor, putting it neatly in the corner of the tent, and unrolled their bed rolls next to each other. As he laid down, she laid now next to him, and curled up at his side. They fell asleep quickly after, Cullen hoping for no nightmares.

***

“Cullen,” he hears his voice, sweetly in his ear, and he opens his eyes. He knows exactly where he is, and that tells him he is in a dream.

He’s in Haven.

Specifically, he’s at the tree he used to meet Ashara at, overlooking the frozen lake. But the lake isn’t frozen now, and while he knows he’s dreaming, he feels a warm breeze on his skin. A tingling of magic as well. The Fade still doesn’t make sense to him. Dreams don’t make sense to him still. He spent most of his life having nightmares.

“There you are,” he hears her again, and turns to his left to see Ashara sitting next to him. Her hair is down, and she’s wearing a light dress, with small straps on the shoulders. It rests loosely on her skin, and she smiles, as she follows his gaze to the dress. “This is what you imagined me wearing?”

He widens his eyes, “What?”

“This is your doing,” She laughs, “I didn’t think you’d be able to change things in a dream, but I think it’s the tether. We did fall asleep with them touching.”

“To heal,” He replies, and she nods.

“Still, Added side benefit. I would have preferred you shirtless, but this will do,” she grinned, She looked from him and looked out to the lake, “It’s different, seeing it not frozen. I like it.”

Cullen nodded, looking down at his casual clothing he wore, clothing typical of working on a farm, what he had enjoyed doing when he was home with his family. He felt comfortable. Maybe that was why he had chosen this. “I never got to see it this way either, I only heard stories.”

“Then your imagination is far more vivid than you give yourself credit for.”

“Meaning?”

“Typically, you dream what you know. You only know of Haven in the snow, yet we’re here in the summer. So, imagination.”

Cullen chuckled, “Is it a use of imagination if I imagine what a lake looks like unfrozen, and a tree with its leaves?”

“Sure,” She grinned, and leaned over and kissed his cheek. He looked at her with a surprised, but pleased look. “You looked like you needed a kiss.”

“Then give me a proper one,” He replied, and pulled her closer to him, capturing her lips eagerly with his own. He knew this was a dream, but it felt so real, and how she hummed against his lips, how she ran her hand through his hair made him wish that it was.

Ashara moved to sit in his lap, and Cullen moved his hand up her leg to rest on her thigh as they kissed, letting them explore each other, as if there wasn’t a war going on. Maybe that was what he needed. What he wanted. To know what it would be like with her, _after_ everything was done.

The kiss broke, and Ashara sighed contently, as she rested her head against his shoulder. He leaned against the strong tree trunk behind them, and enjoyed the feeling he had.

In front of them, near the lake, there was a rock and he watched as a bright bluebird flew over and rested on it. Unable to hold his reaction, he swallowed hard and tensed slightly, and Ashara lifted her head to follow his gaze.

She sighed, but her voice was calm. Sweet, even. “Do you know what the bluebird stands for?”

Cullen shook his head, and looked to her, “No. Other than knowing people call you that for your voice.”

She chuckled, “Besides, that it has a few meanings. Some say, seeing a bluebird in your dreams is a sign of an end to something. Others view the bluebird as a warning, to be more aware of what is around you. One of the old clans I was in, they believed bluebirds to be the messenger of a God." She shifted off of Cullen’s lap and moved to stand up, and walked over to the rock. She held her hand out for the bird, and the bird flew up and into it. “Sort of brings new meaning to ‘Herald of Andraste’, right?”

The bird sang brightly, as it looked around and tilted its head. “Some also view it as guidance. It was a good sign to see a bluebird in your dreams.” She gently pet the bird, and it hopped around on her hand, before it flew away. In her hand, was a blue feather.

“There are a few reasons as to why it became my name.” Ashara’s smile faded, and she sighed. Cullen moved from the tree then, standing up and walking over to her. “Fen’Harel was the first to call me that.”

“The Dalish God?” Cullen asked, furrowing his brow, trying to remember the stories he was told, the stories he read.

“It’s more complicated than that, but yes.”

“Your other tether.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not in any danger, are you?”

Ashara chuckled sadly, and shook her head. “No. Maybe more so now that I have all my memories back.”

“You were…Ashara, you were scared before of your tether. Of what it meant, I remember when you first told me about it.”

She looked at Cullen, and then looked at the tree. “I told you here, under the tree.” She said, thoughtfully, and looked back at him, “So that’s why we’re here. You wanted something familiar. So I’d feel comfortable talking to you.”

“I…” He hadn’t realized he had done that. He had no reason to know that he had done that. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly worried that he had messed up something he hadn’t even been sure he knew how to do.

She reached out and took his hand in hers, “I feel comfortable talking to you, Cullen. There is just a lot. And like you said…it’s not who I was in the past, it’s who I am now. Right?”

He nodded, squeezing her hand. “Right.”

She squeezed his hand back, and looked down at them for a moment, before looking back at him. “What I told you when we first started talking was true. I went from clan to clan. I never felt like I belonged. I was shunned for my tether on my neck, and for what it stood for. But that was where my memories blacked out.” She started to walk towards a path that was around the lake, and gently pulled him along.

He walked alongside her, holding onto her hand as long as she would let him, as she spoke, “When I was 18, I left Clan Lavellan before they could leave me. It was far easier that way, and I took shelter in a cave. That night, in the Fade, is when I met him for the first time.”

“The…god?” He asked.

“Yes. Fen’Harel. I stood up to him. I told him I was not afraid of him. I was young, and foolish, and all the Dalish stories told me that should have gotten me killed. But instead, he liked my act of defiance. He kept visiting me, and we became friends. Over the years, he lead me. He taught me about the People, and what I was missing. He showed me how to use the magic I was developing, because I never had a Keeper to really teach me.” Ashara shrugged, “He was the closest thing to a family, to _belonging_ that I ever had. And I lived on my own for years.”

“How’d you end up in Kirkwall?” Cullen asked, as they continued down the familiar path he had walked so many times before, but never in weather like this. Everything was peaceful.

Ashara shrugged, “I wanted to see more of Thedas. I had gone from cave to cave. I met a few elves, but most of them were scared of me. Once I learned how to control my magic better, and to cover the mark, I went to Kirkwall. I was only there for a little bit, but Varric took me in, in a way. Introduced me to some mercenaries I could join up with, I wanted _adventure_ and _excitement.”_ She waved her other hand around in grand gestures as she spoke, and laughed. “It worked for a bit, before I was off in the caves again.”

The path curved to the left, leading to a small dock. They walked down the edge of the dock and stood there, their hands breaking apart for a moment. Cullen looked up to see the Haven he remembered in the distance. The sounds of recruits practicing, people laughing and talking, the sounds of a busy time. “How did you lose your memories, Ashara?” He asked finally, and felt like he might be violating their trust by asking it.

She tensed up a bit, and sighed. “That’s the one memory I don’t have back,” She said softly, not looking at him. “I don’t know. I still don’t know how I regained it.”

Ashara cleared her throat and looked to Cullen, and put her hands on his chest. “I need to know, I need _you_ to know, that no matter what, I care for you. That I…” Her voice cracked softly under the pressure of the words, and he took a step towards her, his arm around her waist.

“You don’t have to---”

“—I do.” She slid her hands up his chest, around his neck, and rested them there. “Ar lath ma, vhenan. I love _you_ , Cullen.”

His heart swelled and he didn’t give her a chance to say anything else, as he crashed his lips hard against hers, and she passionately returns it. But he can feel the dream pulling him, he can feel both of them fading.

She laughs against the kiss, and mutters, “It will be more fun when we’re awake anyhow. Come on, we have a war to end.”

He kissed her again, not wanting to go. Not wanting to face reality. But she broke the kiss and whispered, “ _Wake up_.”

It was time to go to the Arbor Wilds.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the temple of mythal and the power struggle for the well ends slightly unexpectedly.

When they made it to the camp in the Arbor Wilds, they all split up.

Dagna gave Ashara the rune to use on Samson, and Bull went to find Dorian. Cullen smiled at Ashara, and they both nodded to each other, the thought of _please don’t get hurt_ crossing her mind but knowing she didn’t have to say it. He joined the troops and relieved Cassandra of her duty, but she opted to join them on the push into the woods.

Cullen and the Army went ahead to clear the path for Ashara and her team.

And Ashara, with a moment alone to herself, closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The air felt lighter. Like there was a magic in the air that she couldn’t deny. She opened her eyes slowly, to see Solas, Varric, Dorian, and Bull walking towards her.

“There are scouts looking for what you seek, Inquisitor,” Solas noted, his hands resting on his staff. His eyes said something else, but the anger seemed to have simmered. It seemed to hold relief that she was okay, that she made it in time.

Ashara nodded. “Thank you.”

Varric shrugged, “You were right, my contacts said it might be around here, but I figured, ‘why not let our Spymaster and her spies find it for you’? I’d rather shoot things.”

Bull snickered, “Varric, you’re my type of guy.”

“Tiny, don’t let Sparkler hear you…Andraste knows we all hear _you_ both in Skyhold all the time…”

Bull laughed; Dorian groaned in mock disgust.

“Solas, what about Morrigan?” Ashara asked, stepping forward to whisper it almost, though the rest of the group could still here.

Solas rolled his eyes, “She’s insufferable. Annoyed that we’ve waited for you to arrive, but she has not made any strides to do more than just annoy others with her whining.”

Ashara snickered. “Good. I’d rather her just be hot air.”

“Were you successful?”

She nodded, “We have a way to ruin Samson’s armor. Take that away, and he’s just a shadow of a man.”

Dorian hummed, “But no Samson himself? How did Cullen take that?”

“Fine. It was…interesting.” She looked to Bull, who met her eyes, but didn’t say anything else. “Let’s just get going. I feel good about our chances.”

Maybe it was way too early for her to say that, but she felt good. Maybe it was the magic in the air. It felt old, yet familiar, how it danced unseen over her skin, and she could feel her own magic wanting to play with it. She felt the anchor glow, reacting to it as well.

She glanced at her hand, and frowned for the briefest of moments, and looked up. Solas was staring at her intently, an expression that she couldn’t read. Instead of asking him what was on her mind, which she _used_ to do when she hadn’t had her memories back, she instead just walked forward down the path set out for them.

Any hopes she had of getting out of the camp without Morrigan trailing along was dashed as she took up the back and started to snark with Dorian, who thankfully took it in stride. Ashara was in no mood to speak to the so-called Elven expert – and had a feeling that if the witch knew who exactly she was traveling with, her mind just might explode.

But there was no time in dwelling on that thought, as they immediately were greeted by the enemy and they fought their way through the woods towards the temple. There wasn’t much for banter between them all, just pushing forward, fighting the enemy.

Ashara didn’t hold back her powers, even though she should have. She should have hidden a bit more of what she could do, but after two years of not being able to show what she was truly capable of was wearing on her. She felt Solas staring at her, or she’d catch him with a look of admiration for the smallest of moments; and she knew what he was thinking.

He was getting to truly see her fight, as she meant to. As he wanted to fight alongside her. Of course, he was hiding what _he_ was truly capable of, but it was for good reason.

As they got closer to the temple and finished off the last of the Red Templars in their way, they met up with Cullen and a few of the Inquisition soldiers. “Inquisitor, there were others fighting alongside us, and then against us,” a scout said, catching their breath.

“I saw them too,” Bull noted, “Tough bunch. I think.” He shrugged.

“Inquisitor, we saw Samson and his Templars running inside, if it would be alright, I’m joining you,” Cullen stood tall, his shield in one hand, his longsword in the other. “I will see him brought to justice.”

“Of course. The more people we have, the more ground we will cover. Besides, could use another warrior with us so Bull doesn’t have all the fun.”

“Hey,” Bull laughed, “I resemble that remark.”

She nodded forward, and commanded them all to follow her, as they walked up the steps to the gate of the temple. She recognized the statues immediately and found herself looking at everything in wonder – a wonder that was quickly dashed by Morrigan making some comment explaining what the statues were, when no one asked.

Instead of taking the bait, she continued forward, and they creeped along until the balcony overlooking the path. There was Samson, and Corypheus, taunting…

“Who is that?”

“The more accurate question is, _what_ is that?” Morrigan added rather unhelpfully, and Ashara bit her tongue.

“Ancient Elves…” Solas whispered under his breath, so that only Ashara would hear, and she realized he was right. Or, _felt_ he was right, and in that moment, both hated and was thankful for the magic connection between them.

Corypheus seemed defeated, but Samson kept on as if nothing was wrong. Cullen made sound that seemed like a grunt, something didn’t seem right. They ran down the stairs to the path, only to have the ‘God’ regenerate in a new form. It was chaos, getting across the bridge, towards the temple.

An explosion in front of the temple scared away the birds as Samson laughed loudly, “The Inquisition is too late! Too bad!” before jumping into the wide hole below. Bull and Cullen ran towards it, but Morrigan loudly stopped them.

“Wait! This is a sacred temple! We must respect the traditions!”

Solas groaned, “As much as I do not wish to agree with the witch, she is correct. We must respect the temple. It is…a wonder this still stands.” And he truly did see surprised, which in turn _surprised_ Ashara that something like this had even been hidden from Fen’Harel himself.

Odd.

“I will go follow the paths,” Ashara said, “everyone else, guard the temple doors.”

Morrigan started to follow as Ashara turned, “I shall go with you.”

Ashara stopped, and turned around, her hand firm on her staff. “Why?”

“You need an expert with you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Fantastic idea,” and watched as Morrigan grinned. Ashara looked at Solas, “Solas, you’re with me. Morrigan, stay here.”

“I absolutely will—”

“I said _stay_ ,” She snapped back, feeling a small bit of power pulse off of her, and Morrigan looked at her with annoyance and slight fear.

“As you wish,” the Witch relented, going back with Varric, Bull, Cullen, and Dorian.

Ashara sighed heavily, and nodded, “Alright. We won’t be long. Guard those doors with your life. And do _not_ go and follow them down that hole.” She looked at Bull, who was annoyed at the idea of staying put, but he nodded.

Ashara and Solas went to the path to the left, passing mosaics of the Elven Pantheon. Solas sneered at them as they passed.

“Careful, your Wolf is showing,” she muttered, getting to the first path. They did not speak as she walked the path, and when it was complete, they headed down to the second one below. “Did you really not know this was here?”

Solas sighed, “No. She must have…shielded this from me.”

At the steps of the second path, she looked at him. “Why would Mythal hide something from you?”

“To protect me, most likely. She always said my foolishness would be my downfall.” His eyes cast to the ground, “She wasn’t wrong.”

“Don’t blame yourself.”

“Ashara, you know what I—”

“Okay, _blame yourself_ , but not for _this_.” She said, and handed him her staff, as she walked the more complicated second path. She finished it quickly, the floor glowing blue beneath her, the similar magic that glowed when her tether to Fen’Harel was more active. The irony, if it could be called that, was not lost on her at all.

The second path finished, she walked down the stairs and took her staff back from him. He nodded, “There’s one more. On the other side.”

She did not say anything, but walked alongside him through the sacred ground, and as they got to the final path, she saw one of his statues guarding it. She raised an eyebrow and turned to look at him. “You’re everywhere. Even here.”

“Yes,” He replied, with hesitation, “But you are the only other person here who knows the reason why.”

Once more, she handed him her staff. “Don’t let Morrigan hear you say that. If she finds out I know more about Ancient Elves than she does, she might lose her mind.” Ashara bounded up the stairs, as she heard Solas chuckle briefly.

“Perhaps she already knows. She fears you, Ashara. Your show of power at her Eluvian, taking it from her…that was risky.”

She hears the judgement in his voice, and she rolls her eyes as she continues to walk the path, the steps glowing as she does them. “You know, years ago you would have approved of my risky behavior.”

“Years ago, I was unable to do much for myself and relied on you.”

“You still rely on me, Solas,” She sighed, as she finished the path and lifted her left hand, waving her anchor at him, “Don’t you?”

“That’s not what…”

“I’m not fighting with you, Solas.” She said as she grabbed her staff from him. “Not here. It feels…wrong, somehow.”

He nods. “I understand what you mean.”

They walk back up to the main doors, but she asks, “Are there no temples to you?”

He laughed bitterly, “Do you think I wished one?”

“No, I know you don’t. But still, some may have built them in your name. If this was hidden from you, maybe others are as well.”

“That is…” He started to say, but as they saw the others in the distance, he changed his tone, “a good point.”

“I make them, sometimes.”

As they got closer, Cullen and Morrigan were bickering again, and Bull was standing behind Cullen with his arms crossed. Dorian and Varric were watching from the side. Ashara muttered something under her breath, a few Elven swears, and rolled her eyes. “What is going on _now_? I leave for ten minutes…”

“There is something else here, other than the Eluvian Morrigan says Corypheus seeks. In fact, that mirror may not even _be here_ ,” Cullen sneered at Morrigan, and the woman just rolled her eyes.

“It may still be here! But if he came for another reason, do you not wish to still stop him?” Morrigan looked from Cullen’s angry stare (and that of the others) and looked to Ashara. “Inquisitor, I—”

She just stared at Morrigan, her annoyance clear, “Then what is he here for?”

“We found this, Blue,” Varric broke in, handing her a written missive. “It mentions a ‘Well of Sorrows’. Witchy here thinks it could give the Elder One enough power to breach the Fade like he keeps yelling and bitching about.”

She read over the missive, before folding it up and pocketing it. “Well of Sorrows?”

Morrigan shrugged.

“For a self-proclaimed ‘Elven Expert’, you are truly horrible at this,” Ashara rolled her eyes, and headed for the front gates of the temple. Cullen took her side, while she knew Solas was following closely behind her, followed by the rest of them.

The doors glowed a brilliant blue and opened, revealing a completely untouched and unspoiled temple. “ _Oh,_ ” Ashara gasped out, once more looking around in wonder. “This is…beautiful.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Dorian managed to get out, “It’s stunning.”

“And untouched,” Bull muttered, suspicious of the appearance of the temple, and Ashara could understand why.

There was a feeling of the hairs on the back of her neck sticking up, the movement of magic behind her. “Be careful,” She cautioned the others, “I think we’re being watched.”

They walked as far as they could, to only be greeted by an Elven man walking out, dressed in elegant armor like Ashara had only seen in the Fade. Had only seen due to Fen’Harel showing her.

The man glared at them all, before he spoke. "You are unlike the other invaders. You have the features of those who call themselves Elvhen. You bare the mark of magic which is...familiar.” His glance moved to Ashara, studying her, quiet for a moment before he added, “You use similar magic to hide what your people call tethers, to hide an old secret.”

She swallowed hard and felt both Cullen and Solas look at her. But more concerningly, she felt Morrigan’s gaze on her, studying her. Perhaps confirming any suspicions that she had of her.

The man continued, “How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?"

Ashara cleared her throat, "They are my enemies, as well as yours. I am not with them."

The answer seemed satisfactory to the man enough. "I am called Abelas. We are Sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground. We wake only to fight. To preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion.” The magic behind them grew stronger, as she felt the familiar magic of uncloaking, knowing now there were Sentinels behind them “I know what you seek. Like all who have come before, you wish to drink from the Vir'Abelasan."

Morrigan’s eyes went wide, perhaps of excitement, perhaps of being partly right. "The place of the Way of Sorrows". He speaks of the well!"

Dorian rolled his eyes, "Yes, and it’s the well you did not know existed until recently, Morrigan. As soon as five minutes ago, in fact.”

Morrigan was not given a chance to reply. Abelas’ voice got sterner; his expression got angrier. "It is not _for_ you. It is not for _any_ of you.” He shook his head, “We awaken only when called. And each time find the world more foreign than before. It is meaningless. We endure. The Vir'Abelasan must be preserved."

She felt Cullen step forward with respect next to her, and she turned to him, to see what he’d say. "What is this well?" His curiosity surprised her, and if it were another situation, she’d allow herself a smile.

"It is a path, one walked only by those who toiled in Mythal's favor."

Cullen nodded, and looked from Ashara to Solas. Her heart felt tighter in the moment and waited. "Perhaps you want to try to speak to him, Solas?" He asked, but Solas shook his head.

"And say what? Shall I sway him from a millennia of service by virtue of our shared blood? He clings to all that remains of his world, because he lacks the power to restore it."

Once more, he was letting his Dread Wolf show, and to his words Abelas seemed to narrow his eyes to look at Solas with more scrutiny than before. Ashara stepped up quickly, to bring the attention back on her. "We knew this place was sacred. We've respected it as best as we could!”

The silence was deafening. It felt as though it dragged on, and Ashara was beginning to wonder if this was where it would end. But instead, Abelas nodded. “I believe you. Trespassers you are, but you have followed rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal. If these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them. When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart, and _never_ return."

“That sounds good, there is—” Ashara was cut off by Morrigan, almost frantically.

"Consider carefully. You must stop Corypheus, yes. But you may also need the well for your own."

Ashara stared at Morrigan in disbelief, blinking a few times. To go against Ancient Elves, it was madness. And not one Ashara was keen on doing. She looked up to Abelas and nodded, "I accept."

The sound of disapproval came out of Morrigan’s lips, but the others did not speak. Abelas gestured to his right, "You will be guided to those you seek.” His hands then moved behind his back, as he turned to leave, “As for the Vir'Abelasan, it shall not be despoiled. Even if I must destroy it myself."

"No!" Morrigan screamed out, and transformed herself into a raven, taking flight immediately after Abelas.

Ashara’s hands immediately went into fists, “Fenedhis! I knew we couldn’t trust her!”

“Come on, Inquisitor,” Cullen softly said, his hand on her shoulder, “One of the Sentinels is waiting. Let us do as you promised them.”

His hand on her shoulder calmed her, even though she knew from the look in Cullen’s eye that he was angry as well. But they would deal with it another time.

“The Commander is right,” Solas added, and made the move to follow the Sentinel waiting for them, and the rest of them followed suit.

The hidden passages of the temple were just as beautiful and untouched as the main room, with mosaics lining the halls. Solas took the front of the group, as Ashara explained some of what she was seeing to Cullen. He asked questions about the Elven culture, who the mosaics were of, and much to Ashara’s surprise, Solas chimed in with additional helpful information. He didn’t hide his dislike of them, but he was still _helpful_ and she knew that was because of her.

They passed rooms where Sentinels were fighting Red Templars, the battle raging on without them, and it was a wonder that they were just _passing_ all of this. But the Sentinels were fighting strong. When their guide lead them as far as they could go, Ashara took a deep breath and pushed through the doors.

As they stepped back out, in the distance she could see the Well of Sorrows. And below it, was Samson and his Templars.

But what overwhelmed her was the draw of magic, towards the well. She gasped a little, and Dorian gave a hum of agreement. “Ah, so you feel it too, yes?”

“It feels old,” Solas noted, and Dorian hummed again.

“Like I can feel it on my skin,” Ashara added in wonder, with Bull grunting, “Well that’s…something.”

But the commentary died as they got to the end, and Samson was yelling out orders. Cullen immediately drew his sword, and held his shield, glaring at Samson. “Samson, you’re time is done.”

Samson took a look at the party, and laughed, “Oh is it now? You really think you can go against me? I’m Corypheus’ vessel, he’s going to make me a _god._ ” and he made a show of it by pumping his chest, his armor glowing a bright red.

Cullen did not change his position, nor did he look any bit convinced that Samson was as strong as he said. “Maddox died for your cause, Samson, you don’t care about the consequences, do you?”

Samson’s expression fell only slightly, “I…told him not to. But it doesn’t matter. He knew I was destined for more. He would have not died in vein; he knew the power that was bestowed upon me!”

Ashara laughed, “Samson, that’s the thing about power,” she reached into her pack and pulled out the red lyrium rune that Dagna made, “It can very easily be taken away.”

The rune swirled as it pulled the red lyrium right out of Samson’s armor, and pulled it into the rune. The rune then shattered in Ashara’s hands, and the dust was carried away by the wind. Samson’s armor started to disintegrate away from him, and the once smug face he had was quickly turned to shock and anger.

“No! The armor!” He desperately grabbed at it, trying to pull it back to it as it fell off piece by piece until there was nothing left but a broken man. He fell to his knees, and turned to give an order to the templars to kill the Inquisitor, but found that Varric, Dorian, Bull, and Solas had them already cornered and killed them in the chaos and distraction of Samson.

Cullen stepped forward, putting his sword away, but still holding strong to his shield. “As I said. It’s over.” He did not let Samson speak as he swiftly punched Samson in the face, and knocked him out cold onto the ground.

Soldiers who had followed behind them came running up, and Cullen ordered them to take Samson back to Skyhold – they would judge him there.

“Cullen, are you –” Ashara started, but stopped. She felt magic moving around her. Suddenly, the uncloaked figure of Abelas appeared, and formed a pathway up to the well. He ran up towards it, and Ashara called out, "Abelas! Wait!" and chased after him. She could hear the others taking off after her, racing to get to the well.

They ran up to the well, and as they got to the top, a raven flew in front of Abelas and a cloud of purple smoke formed around to reveal Morrigan back in human form. Ashara’s eyes narrowed as she glared at the witch, and Abelas gave a similar glare.

Morrigan did not seem phased, as she rolled her eyes and put her hand on her hip, "You heard his parting words, Inquisitor,” her tone dripping of annoyance and attitude, “the Elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows.”

Abelas shook his head, sighing out, "so the sanctum is despoiled at last."

"You would have destroyed it if given the chance!”

"To keep it from your grasping fingers! Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving!"

"Fool! You'd let _your people's legacy_ rot in the shadows!"

At those words, Ashara immediately snapped, and her fingers twitched at her side. "Back _the fuck off,_ Morrigan! I have had enough of you! Who are you to speak of the People? You are _not us_."

The witch shook her head, attention to Ashara, "The well offers power, Inquisitor, and if it can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford _not_ to use it?"

"Do you even know what you ask?” Abelas asked, looking to Morrigan and Ashara, not acknowledging the others in the party. He looked then to the well, standing in front of it in quiet contemplation for the moment he was allowed. “As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on, through this well. All that we were. All that we _knew_. It would be lost forever."

The anger that was playing on Ashara’s features softened, knowing the gravity of the situation. She fought the urge to look at Solas, who she could feel was watching her with intent. Abelas was one of the Ancient Elves. The ones that Solas wanted to find, wanted to save. She went to speak, but instead someone else did.

Cullen, with his softness, took a step forward. He had only lowered his shield slightly, but was still on guard. She wondered if he could feel the well like she could, through their tether. He cleared his throat, addressing the Sentinel, "This can't be easy, Abelas, holding on to what's left.”

Abelas looked surprised that a calm and caring phrase would come from someone such as a human, and an ex-Templar. The Elf nodded. "You cannot imagine. Each time we awaken, it slips further from our grasp"

She recognized that pain. She heard about it for years, from stories, from how Fen’Harel – no, Solas – would speak to her. She sympathized.

"There are other places, friend.” Solas spoke up, “Other duties. Your people yet linger." Ashara watched their interaction closely, though she tried not to give anything away

Abelas looked to Solas, evaluating him. A hint of a smile – if the man was capable of one – pulled at his lips. Ashara swallowed. He knew. He _knew_. "Elvhen such as you?"

"Yes, such as I."

Abelas gave an approving sound, and nodded to Solas, before looking at Ashara and her party, ignoring Morrigan. "You have shown respect to Mythal, and there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny. In your companion. Is that your desire? To partake of the Vir'Abelasan as best you can, to fight your enemy?"

Ashara nodded. "With your permission."

He scoffed. "One does not obtain the permission. One obtains the _right_.” He paused, before adding, “The Vir'Abelasan may be too much for a mortal to comprehend. Brave it if you must, but know this: you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal."

It was Morrigian’s turn to scoff, a roll of her eyes, a shift of her hips. She was getting anxious. Wanting the well, and nothing more. "Bound? To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?"

"Bound. As _we_ are bound."

Before Morrigan can say something else that she regrets, Cullen once more steps into the conversation. Wanting more information. Curious. Gaining the attention of the elves in the conversation. "Is it possible this Mythal still exists?"

"Anything is possible." Abelas notes.

Morrigan laughs, "Elven legend states that Mythal was tricked by Fen'Harel, and banished to the beyond."

“That’s not exactly—” Ashara starts, but Abelas looks to her, as if to tell her to stop speaking. She shuts her mouth, and Abelas looks at Morrigan, and _sneers,_ "'Elven' legend is wrong. The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder."

"Murder? I said nothing of--"

"She was slain, if a God truly can be. Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple." Abelas’ words were true. Of course, Ashara knew this. She stared straight ahead, though, not focusing on Abelas or Morrigan, not looking at Solas. She felt the look of the others on her, but ignored it. It wasn’t the time.

A silence fell between the group, as Abelas looked them all over, and then turned to Solas. He nodded, and walked past them and left.

She knew she’d see him again, if Solas was directing him to where she thought he was. Ashara wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad idea for Solas to be recruiting so obviously. She wondered if he was even thinking it through, or thinking it was just what needed to be done.

But Abelas was gone and Morrigan brought Ashara back, muttering, "You'll note the intact Eluvian. I was correct on that count, at least."

“Congratulations, Morrigan, you got _one thing_ right,” Ashara rolled her eyes, and walked over to the well, standing in front of it. She closed her eyes, feeling the well’s pull. Calling out to her. "The well...it's the key to the Eluvian. If we take the well, we take Mythal's Eluvian."

Morrigan scoffed, “What, so you can gain more _power_? I’ve seen what you can do, _Inquisitor_ , I refuse to let you stand in my way.”

Ashara immediately was on guard, “Stand in _your way_? You want this for yourself! You want to take the history of _my people_ and destroy it!”

“I would use to it to defeat my enemies!”

“And am I your enemy now?”

The two of them stared at each other, as Morrigan finally replied: “ _Yes.”_

It happened so fast, the burst of magic that came from Morrigan, and Ashara immediately dodged and threw a spell back at her, fire exploding at her feet. The rest of the party tried to hold them back, but Morrigan threw another strong spell towards Ashara.

Cullen immediately got in front of Ashara, lifting his shield to block her from Morrigan’s blast.

The blast was strong, and knocked them all back.

Cullen was lifted off his feet and went flying, and there was a splashing sound.

He landed directly in the middle of the Well of Sorrows.

“Cullen!” Ashara called out, and went to step into the well to get him, but the well’s magic immediately blasted her back. She struggled to get up off the ground, as she watched in horror as Cullen got himself up, gasping a bit for air.

He had swallowed some of the water.

She could see the magic starting to swirl around him, and their eyes met for a moment. He was scared. _Terrified_.

And there was nothing she could do, but watch.


	16. Chapter 16

He met her eyes, and he was _terrified._ He had heard what Abelas had said. That whoever ‘took’ the well would be bound to whomever this Mythal person was, and being bound to _anything_ didn’t sound good. Or, in the way that Abelas had been bound. But he refused to let Morrigan take the power. He hadn’t truly trusted her for years, and having seen her true colors _now_ , he didn’t want her gaining the power.

Not that he had thought about Ashara taking it either, but the moment Morrigan had declared Ashara an enemy and attacked her, he had to react.

Now, he was in the middle of the well. He had landed face down in the well, not too deep, but deep enough that he had managed to drink some of it.

When he stood to his feet, he frantically looked for Ashara, and when he saw her, he watched her try to get into the Well. The magic of the Well, the power of it shoved her back violently.

There was nothing they could do.

He looked to the ground and saw blue magic swirling towards him, and then suddenly, everything went black.

The air around him was thick with magic, and it made him nervous. Anxious.

Ancient Elven was shouted at him, ethereal voices he couldn’t understand.

Wisps of spirits swirled around him in the air, around his body, twining in his legs.

It pulled him.

Pushed him.

Drove itself into his mind.

Magic moved into him, through his mouth, down his throat, infected his veins.

“ _You understand now.”_

It was Elven. And yet…

Was this the price?

Was there a price?

He needed to see.

“Yes, I understand you. But I need your help. I was not meant to take this, this is…”

“ _You have taken the well. What will you have of us? Who do you fight?”_

Cullen looked around him frantic, trying to find the source of the voice, but the voices were all around him. They were in him. “I did not mean to! I was protecting—”

“ _Your intentions are good. We think. We cannot tell. You are human.”_

“If I am to have your powers, then help us. Help us fight out enemy, help us discover how to stop him. You can…” He faltered, and the magic swirled around him, angry. Waiting for an answer. Waiting for his word. “You can take anything you need, just help me protect this world.” He swallowed hard, “Please.”

“ _It is done,”_ the voices cried out in unison, and Cullen gasped for air. He felt like he was drowning, being pulled beneath the well, as if it was deeper than it had appeared. He felt the pain, sorrow, agony of thousands of years, and there was something else there too. He couldn’t place it, but it was there. “ _We will help._ ”

He felt his vision go a bright white, he felt the magic moving through him, as he was lifted to the ground and it controlled him. It took him over.

Then suddenly he was dropped to the ground, and his vision was restored. He was back with the others, but the water in the well was gone. Cullen gasped for air, and started to cough, as he pushed himself up from the ground. He heard footsteps running towards him, and saw Solas, Ashara, and Dorian standing over him. Ashara held out her hand for him to take, but he waved it off, getting up. “Are you alright?” He asked her, and she looked at him with surprise.

“Am _I_ alright? You just…Cullen, you have the power of the well!”

_She is concerned for you. The other is worried, worried about what we will tell you_.

He fought the urge to question the voices, and collected his shield. He looked behind the mages, to see Bull holding Morrigan back, and Varric training Bianca right on her. “What about—”

The question didn’t finish, as the roar and anger of Corypheus coming towards them at a rapid rate needed them to act.

“Cullen, you have to open it!”

“What?” He looked to Ashara with confusion, as she rushed to his side.

“You have the key to the mirror now, you have to open it!”

“I don’t know—” But Ashara grabbed his hand and forced it towards the mirror and he felt the magic coming from the Well through him and to the mirror. It glowed a bright blue, and he ran up towards it, putting his hand on it.

“Quick!” _It is okay,_ the voices comforted him, told him it was right, that they would not be followed. One by one, everyone ran through the mirror, and he ran in after.

The mirror didn’t lead right to Skyhold as Cullen had expected, but the mirror behind them shattered into pieces once they were all through. Where they were now was gray. Filled with what he knew were Elven artifacts, and countless other Eluvians, all dark. But Ashara was running forward, running towards one, and everyone was following. There was no time to question.

She got to the dark mirror she was looking for, spoke words he did not understand, and the mirror lit up.

_You understand the words, you do not know their meaning. You will._

They all ran through the mirror, and they found themselves back in Skyhold. Ashara quickly locked the mirror behind them and as they all got their footing, realized what happened.

And one by one, Cullen felt all of them look at him.

_They are scared of what you know. Curious of what you know. Now you understand what it is like._

Cullen squeezed his eyes shut, and put his hand on his temple. He immediately heard Ashara at his side, “Someone get the door. Cullen, we’ll bring you back into the main keep, okay?”

He nodded, and simply followed along. Voices around him were asking what happened, were yelling at each other, trying to understand. But he couldn’t make out who was speaking. Everything was blending together. Everything was loud, everything was uncertain, mixing in different languages and it was making his head hurt.

Things he needed to know. Things he needed to learn. Things he shouldn’t know. Things he shouldn’t learn.

Overwhelmed.

Someone touched him and he flinched, and he realized where he was. In the main hall, in front of the Inquisitor’s door. The hand that had touched him was Ashara.

“It’s…” He started to speak, showing his remorse for flinching at her, but she just nodded. Understanding.

“We will bring you up to my quarters, Cullen. It is easier to keep watch, and closer in case you need us.”

_She’s leaving you._ “You’re leaving me?”

Ashara shook her head, “Not quite. I’ll come up and get you settled, and we’ll send someone in to try to help. I have to write to Josie and Leilana, they’re still in the Arbor Wilds.”

Cullen swallowed, and nodded. “Alright.” _Alright._

She lead him up the stairs and to her room, but the light was bright coming through the windows. He squinted, shielding his eyes from the light, and he could hear her moving through the room, pulling the curtains closed. “I made it darker, try now,” Her voice was soft, comforting. Trying to ground him.

He slowly opened his eyes, to a much darker room, and he nodded. He let her lead him to her bed, and he started to fumble with his armor.

“Let me help you,” She soothed, and he just nodded, not a lot of energy to do anything else. Carefully she undid the ties, and the clasps, the buckles and notches, and his armor was soon piling up on the floor. He was left with his tunics and pants he wore under it, and she carefully draped his cloak over one of the chairs in the room. “It’s okay, lay down.”

He nodded again, sighing as he laid down on top of her sheets, resting his head on the pillow and looking at her as she sat on the bed next to him. “I think that one time, I’d like to come up here without my life in danger. At least more than one time.”

She laughed lightly, “Agreed,” and she reached forward to gently touch his cheek. She was still in her old armor, _Ancient Keeper robes_ , the voices told him. ‘But I don’t think your life is in danger.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

The voices got louder again and he closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, He felt Ashara’s hand move to his. “The voices of the well, they’re speaking to you, aren’t they?”

_Yes._ “Yes,” He nodded.

“Then let them tell you if your life is in danger.”

_No. Not from us._ “They…say no. Not from the well.”

“Good,” She nodded, but her smile fell ever so slightly. “Try to rest, don’t try to fight the voices, okay? I’ll get Dorian and Solas to bring up something for you, help you handle this better.”

_You need to go to the shrine. We will tell you where it is_.

“There’s a shrine,” Cullen blurted out, “I think that…with the Well’s help I can….find it? Maker, this is _weird_.”

“Magic is _very_ weird,” She said, but there was a sadness to her voice. “I’m sorry that this happened, I was prepared to pay the boon, I was…and then Morrigan…”

Cullen shook his head, “I don’t regret protecting you.”

“I know.”

“What will you do with Morrigan?”

“I don’t know.”

_Bring her to the shrine. She is needed._

Cullen made a face, and sighed. “They say…to bring her to the shrine.”

Ashara raised an eyebrow, “The voices of Mythal are saying to bring _Morrigan_ to the shrine? Seriously?”

_Yes._ Cullen nodded.

“Alright. When you’re ready to be up and about, we’ll work on the map together for the location. But please try to rest. I’ll be back soon.” She leaned over and kissed Cullen softly on the lips, and ran her fingers through his messy hair before she left the room. When the door shut behind her, and he heard it lock, he exhaled.

Lately, it seemed that he was involved with a lot of magic, and for an ex-Templar, that wasn’t exactly a good thing. Thankful he was no longer using lyrium, because he didn’t know what would happen if he still did.

“Walking away seems harder than staying. _Let him be okay, don’t let him be hurt_. She’s scared. There’s so much she is afraid to say, and so much she is afraid to lose. She thinks this is the beginning to the end. The wolf waits in the sidelines. He wants to reclaim her, bring her back to his side. She’s scared. _Don’t let Cullen fade away._ ”

Cullen stares at the ceiling, and blinks. “Cole, is that you?”

He feels the presence of Cole, sitting at the edge of the bed. Cullen sits up and looks, to see the young man sitting cross-legged. “Yes.”

“The wolf you are talking about, is that Fen’Harel?” The voices confirm with a _Yes_ before Cole says anything.

Cole tilts his head, “The voices, they already tell you. You already know.”

“This is just a God, not a man.” _Incorrect._ Cullen closes his eyes.

“You’re hurting,” Cole says, softly. “Let me help you.”

“Help me how? I need to follow this through, Cole.”

“The pain isn’t there, but the hurt around the heart is. You’re scared of losing.”

Cullen sighs, “Against Corypheus, of course I am.”

Cole shakes his head. “No. You are wondering how you can compete with a god for her love.”

Swallowing hard, Cullen rubs the back of his neck. There’s no reason on correcting Cole, because they both know that he is right.

“She meant it, when she said it.”

“Hmm?”

“That she loves you. Remember that.”

Cullen looks away for a moment, and doesn’t bother replying to Cole because he knows the young man is gone. He’s gotten used to their small interactions, and Cullen has come to trust him.

He doesn’t want to rest in this bed. He doesn’t want to just lay here and do _nothing_. Not when there is a war, when they don’t know Corypheus’ next move. They sent him a message, they damaged his plan, but now he could be getting reckless. More dangerous.

The voices were telling him to go to the shrine. That they would help with a way to fight what was coming next.

It was no time to stay in bed. He left, heading down to the War Room.

Just outside the doors of the War Room, he can hear arguing. He knows the tone of one well enough to know it’s Ashara.

The voices are muffled behind the door, and he can make out a few words.

_If he finds out…it will…no, you don’t understand! I refuse to…_

Another voice, male, was shouting in response. _We are no closer to…it is too quickly…he will discover…_

And the rest was muffled, though the angry tones remained.

He stood at the door before pushing it open, and saw Solas and Ashara staring at each other in anger, before bringing their attention to the door.

To him.

It felt like he was intruding on something, and the voices agreed. _There is more here than you know._ He didn’t want to understand what that meant. IT felt too painful to pry open.

“Cullen,” Ashara’s voice was softer, as she walked closer to the war table, and away from Solas, but stayed there. “Why aren’t you resting?”

“There isn’t time, Ashara, we both know this.”

Solas put his arms behind his back, and nodded, “So I see.”

Cullen walked towards the map, and stared at it, listening to the voices that guided him until he placed his finger down. “There. I have to go there.”

“For…” Solas questioned, and Cullen looked at him.

The voices stirred in his head. _The rebel walks among us._ Cullen’s features shifted in confusion, but Solas’ expression did not change. “There is a shrine to Mythal. The voices say to go there. They request Morrigan.”

“ _Morrigan_? The voices of those bound to Mythal request the Witch of the Wilds?” Solas seemed actually _angry_ at this. Cullen didn’t react, the voices didn’t react.

“Does it matter?” Ashara replied, sounding exasperated. “Cullen, I’ll go with you, and we’ll bring Morrigan.”

“Ashara—” Solas warned, and Cullen watched curiously, wondering when Solas had taken to using her first name, rather than her title, around other people. There was a familiar feeling that crowded his thoughts, held tight to his heart. He didn’t like it. The budding feeling of jealousy. Of worry.

_Be quiet. You need to go to the shrine. Bring the Witch. Bring the Bird. The Wolf can stay._

The wolf? Cullen rubbed at his temples and closed his eyes.

“Solas, not now,” She warned, and Cullen felt her at his side. “We’ll go to the shrine now, Cullen. The sooner we do, the sooner I think the voices will stop hurting you.”

_She worries we’re going to tell you the truth. She’s lying to you. She’s not telling you everything._

“I agree,” Cullen said, as he finally dropped his hand. “I’ll prepare what I need. I’ll meet you and Morrigan at the stables.”

He needed to get out of this room, and felt the guilt creep up on him that he needed to get away from her. The voices were loud, putting doubt in him that he didn’t want to face. They’d go to the shrine, they’d find out what they need, and they’d be done with this.

***

In front of them stood Flemeth, and Morrigan looked shocked. “Ask the voices,” Flemeth said, “if I am telling the truth.”

The voices cried out, _It is Mythal! She is here._

“They say you tell the truth,” Cullen said, and felt his resolve fall. How he had gone from steadfast Commander to this, was beyond his comprehension. But the voices sang happily in his head, that Mythal was here. She was in Flemeth. And while Flemeth explained to her daughter and Ashara what was going on, Cullen just found himself staring around the shrine.

More importantly, the wolf statues that seemed to guard them. It felt like one was actually following his movements, but that felt insane.

But everything _felt_ insane lately, and Cullen was coming to the realization that they _weren’t._ Old gods, new gods, holes in the sky, tears in reality, tethers that grew and connected him to things he’d never see before.

“Commander,” his title was said and he looked towards the person who said it. It was Flemeth.

When he turned to look at her, only Flemeth and Ashara remained. Morrigan had left the field. How long had he been lost in thought?

“She left when I explained to her I was no danger to her,” Flemeth explained, and she put her hands on her hips, “But the question is, what do we do with you?”

He raise an eyebrow, “Me?”

“You took of the well, did you not?” Flemeth looked to Ashara and smirked, “Little bird, I had expected you to be the one before me.”

“I am before you,” Ashara said, and she kept her arms at her side. She looked uncomfortable.

_She doesn’t want you to get more information than you should have._

“And how is our mutual friend?” Flemeth asked, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Ashara swallowed hard.

“This is not the place to speak of that.”

“Oh, it’s not?”

Cullen cleared this throat, “I’m sorry for interrupting, but we’re here because the Well said that…well…I suppose that _you_ could help us.”

Flemeth laughed, and nodded. “Come here, Commander.”

He stood where he was for a moment, before he was compelled to walk _towards_ her. He felt the magic dance across his skin, and he walked towards Flemeth, as Ashara called out in anger.

“Do not compel him to do your bidding!”

“Is he not a tool, child? As you were a tool? As you _are?_ ”

Cullen walked up to Flemeth and she took his head in her hand, “Look at her,” she willed, and he turned to face her. “Do you see?”

Ashara’s eyes were glowing a bright white, and the anchor was glowing on her hand. Her look of anger turned to one of shame instantly as Cullen stared at her.

“Tell me, Commander, what do you see? Speak honestly. Tell me what you feel for her right in this instant.” Flemeth dropped her hands, and stood watching the two of them.

“Love and fear,” He said without hesitation, and he swallowed hard. “Please, please release me.”

“Do you want to use this power for good? To help restore the world?”

“Yes.”

“Even if it means losing her?”

Cullen tried to stop from answering, but felt the command to be overwhelming. “…yes.”

“Very well,” Flemeth said softly, and waved her hand, and Cullen sighed. “I apologize for doing that, but it appears there is much left unsaid here. I did not do this to harm you, Commander. Only to open your eyes.”

His hands made fists at his side, and he looked at Flemeth with anger, but she did not, was not phased. “Don’t worry. You will not hear from me or see me again. Use the voices, they will call the Guardian of Mythal, it will be under your control for your fight. But only once; when it is dead, it is gone. Do you understand?”

“Guardian?”

“A dragon, Commander, to fight other dragons.”

Flemeth turned to walk out of the field, and Ashara yelled after her.

“Wait! Do you really think that we’re done here?”

“Oh, Little Bird, we are not. But you and I will catch up later.” Flemeth laughed, and in a burst of smoke, she was gone.

Left in the field was Cullen and Ashara, staring at each other. The look on her face was one of fear, one of shame. He knew he wore the same. “Cullen, are you alright?”

“Tell me why your eyes glowed like that.” He asked, stepping forward towards her.

“Cullen…”

He shook his head. “Tell me what you’re not telling me.”

“I want to,” She stepped forward, trying to reach him, and cried, “I want to but I _can’t_.”

“Why not?”

She shook her head, and wrapped her arms around herself tightly. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Cullen scoffed, “How would you know if I wouldn’t understand, if you’re not giving me the chance?”

“Cullen, you are under the will of an ancient _god_ ,” she tried to reason. But reason was not holding place in the conversation and Cullen’s voice rose accordingly.

“You are tethered to one!”

“ _He’s not a god_!” She immediately snapped back, and he watched as her expression changed. It softened, and she swallowed hard. “None of them were. It’s…complicated.”

“ _Complicated_. Somehow, that makes it worse. Ashara, I…” He sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. He had never felt the need to run from a battle, and yet this was one he wanted to leave as far behind him as he could. Because it felt like it was a battle he was going to lose – not the one with Corypheus, but the one staring at him now.

He never wanted to back down from a battle before.

Now he was wondering if he ever had a choice.

“I need to know that there can be a time where there is nothing between us,” he finally said, “I’ve never held anything back from you.”

Ashara cleared her throat, but it was still strong with emotion, “Yes, you did.”

“When?”

“When you said that you feared me.”

He was stunned to silence.

She sighed. “I love you, Cullen. Please just…remember that. In the end.”

“In the end?”

She shook her head. “We should get back to Skyhold. Plan our next move.”

He watched as she walked off in front of him, towards their mounts. He reached his mount as she got on his, and she refused to look at him. She looked ahead, her shoulders straight, her breathing seemed forced to keep herself calm.

He got up on his mount and brought the horse next to her, and as she lifted her hands on the reins to move along, he held his hand out and touched her arm. “Wait.”

“Cullen…”

“Listen to me. When this is over, when we defeat Corypheus, I want to understand. I want to be there for you, help you. If you’ll let me.”

She nodded, and inhaled sharply, blinking back what he knew could be tears if they continued this conversation here. “When all of this is over, I would like that.”

It comforted him to hear the words, even if they were a lie. He wanted to ask the voices if she was telling the truth, but they were silent and would not know the answer anyway.

***

When they arrived back at Skyhold, most of the inner circle had returned. Cassandra was still leading the troops from Arbor Wilds back to the keep, but Josephine and Leilana were waiting for Cullen in his office when he returned.

He hadn’t expected the two of them there, and when he opened the door, Josephine ran to his side and hugged him. Which, apparently had surprised both of them, because when she stepped back, she brushed off her clothing and stuttered over her words, “We had been told what happened at the Well, and we were worried—”

“It’s alright, Josephine,” He said with a half-smile, and set his pack on the floor by the door. “But why meet me here? I would have met you in the War Room.”

“You’re important to us, Cullen, you are our friend. We needed to see for ourselves that you were alright. Away from politics and war,” Leilana softly spoke, “What happened at the shrine?”

“Ah, yes. Well,” He went over to the chest behind his desk, and opened it. Pulling out a bottle of wine, he opened it and set it on the table. “Morrigan’s mother is holding the spirit of an Elven god, which I am now bound to by the Well. And apparently, she knows Ashara, and they have a mutual friend.”

Leilana walked over to the desk, and didn’t ask before the picked up the bottle and took a drink from it, and set it down. Cullen nodded in appreciation that she understood the meaning of him pulling the bottle out. “Flemeth?”

“Yes.”

“And the _mutual_ friend? Of Ashara and this _Mythal_?”

“Yes, I believe it is…”

Josephine came and grabbed the bottle before Cullen could get it, and took a drink. Both Cullen and Leilana looked at her with surprise, and she shrugged, “What? We’re talking about gods and being bound to them, I’m not having this conversation sober!”

Cullen chuckled, as he finally took the bottle for himself and took a drink as Leilana spoke. “You think this mutual friend of theirs is Fen’Harel?”

“And those stories the scouts found are real. But perhaps not the whole story.” He said once the liquid burned his throat and he felt the familiar ache. “The voices of the well, I don’t trust them fully. But they say that she’s not telling me everything.”

Josephine gasped, “The voices?”

He sighed, “It’s a long story.”

“No one tells everyone _everything_ , Cullen,” Leilana pointed out, after another drink from the bottle. “You keep your secrets as well.”

“I know. But this feels…”

“You love her, it makes it harder.”

Cullen bowed his head down, before he nodded. “Yes.”

“Get some rest, we can talk more about—”

But Leilana’s words died when the sky exploded into a green glow. The three of them ran out of Cullen’s office to the bridge, and stood outside watching the breach be re-opened. “We must go,” Cullen said, as he ran towards the main keep, through the rotunda to the main hall, where Ashara was standing with Dorian and Varric, and her anchor was wildly reacting to the breach being reopened. The others of the inner circle who were in the keep started to gather.

She was staring at her hand, the cracking of the magic, loud and echoing off the walls of the hall. “He’s here,” She said quietly, her voice barely carrying over the magic.

“Our troops are not back from the Arbor Wilds, we don’t have anyone to send to you as backup.” Cullen said, “We’d be sending you out alone.”

“That’s what he wants,” Ashara shrugged, closing her fist over the anchor and looked to those who were around. “He wants us to go to him. So, we go to him.”

Varric made a sound of disapproval, “Shouldn’t we wait for—”

“Any inaction, Varric, will give him time to destroy the world,” Solas stepped in, “The Inquisitor is right. We need to go to him.”

Cullen looked from the others to Ashara, and nodded. “We’re all going with you.”

Dorian and Bull made sounds of agreement, along with Solas and Varric. “Six of us, it’s not awful chances. What’s six people against a God?” Dorian joked.

“I like those odds,” Bull laughed, slapping his hand down on Dorian’s shoulder, and the mage winced slightly before grinning.

“Let’s go. Head to the stables, I’m right behind you,” Ashara nodded, as the rest of them left. Cullen was the last to leave, but she reached out and grabbed his hand. “Cullen, wait, I—”

He didn’t wait for her words, he didn’t want to. Instead he held onto her hand and pulled her tight against him and kissed her passionately. As if they might not make it out of this alive. She replied with just as much behind the kiss as he gave, and the kiss broke roughly. “We’ll celebrate more when we win,” She said, as she ran out of the hall.

Cullen ignored the tugging feeling in his heart, the pain of the tether, as he ran after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting close to end of the game...but there are plenty of chapters once the final battle is done, don't worry! 
> 
> i also started a different modern thedas story (solas/lavellan) if you're interested, so check it out on my profile!


	17. Chapter 17

This was not the plan.

Granted, along the way Ashara sort of realized there never really had been a plan in the first place beyond defeat Corypheus. It had been what the Inquisition was set out to do, but Ashara had assumed there’d be large armies and giant battles.

Not her running across floating platforms of the destroyed chantry in the sky, with everyone following her. She also had never really expected Cullen to be able to summon a dragon, but in the sky while they were fighting against Corypheus and the demons he summoned, there was an actual _dragon fight_.

So, okay, for the fact that there was no plan for this, they seemed to be doing pretty well.

Also, it was around this time that Ashara felt no need to hold back what she was capable of anymore, now that she was fighting against a being that wanted to be a god.

Corypheus did not show fear when she attacked him, nor did she expect him to. Everyone was fighting to all of their abilities, and both Solas and Ashara were showing off abilities neither of them showed to the rest of the Inquisition before.

She knew Solas was desperate for the Orb. Her? She was desperate to defeat Corypheus. She didn’t want to consider the rest after that.

But Corypheus was screaming before her, on his knees, as she growled, “So you want to go to the Fade?” The Orb, _Fen’Harel’s Orb_ was in her left hand with the anchor, giving her more power than she had expected it to give.

She used the power of the anchor to form a rift inside him, and let it grow. He screamed as it pulled him apart piece by piece, dissolving him, “Then go,” she said bitterly, as she used the Orb to focus the power, and the rift closed and Corypheus was gone.

But the power used through the Orb cracked and the orb fell to the ground, broken.

Everyone else was cheering that the battle was over. Everyone was cheering that the sky was healed. The companions that were with them were off to the side, excitedly relieved things were done. She could hear the rest of the inquisition that was fighting on the ground wanting to know if it was over.

Ashara watched as Solas bent down to pick up the broken pieces of the Orb. He slowly stood, holding the pieces in his hands and looked at Ashara. “We need another foci,” He said softly, and Ashara cleared her throat.

“I know you wanted the Orb saved. Solas, I’m sorry.”

“It is not your fault,” He said, as he put the broken pieces together in his hand.

“So what now, then?” She asked, and Solas took a step to her, to speak quietly.

“We have to find the amulet, Nislean'ean." He paused. "Are you still with me?”

Her eyes went from Solas, darting to Cullen.

Cullen, who at that moment, looked over to her with a smile.

She smiled back to him, and looked at Solas. “I…need to finish something first.”

The expression Solas had was one she couldn’t read. “The meeting place is the same. If you wish to join me.”

She nodded, and left to join the others. There was no need to say goodbye to him – she knew if she turned around he would already be gone. There was too much left to be said and this was not the place.

And as she joined the others, and Cullen pulled her into his arms and held on tight, she didn’t want to go. She allowed herself the moment of closing her eyes and hugging him back tightly, relieved that this war was over.

What she chose not to dwell on was the fact that if she wasn’t careful, another might start. _That_ worried her more.

“I am so glad you’re alive,” Cullen whispered into her ear before the hug parted, and she grinned up at him in reply.

“I am too.”

She slid her hand down his arm and took his hand in hers as they walked towards the stairs down to the ground with the rest of them. They’d go to Skyhold and discuss the next steps. To celebrate.

Ashara felt herself squeezing Cullen’s hand a little tighter, but hid any other emotion behind a smile.

***

It was maybe the most excited she had ever seen anyone in Skyhold be. The laughter was the loudest it had ever been, and the happiness that everyone felt was infectious. The war, as they had known it, was over.

“Inquisitor,” Leilana greeted her, lingering by the door. Ashara hadn’t wanted to go into the main hall yet. She didn’t want to celebrate, because it felt so _final_ to her. “You are the talk of Thedas! And you’ll be busy, now that the war is over, everyone wants to meet with you.”

“Oh, _now_ they want to meet with me?” Ashara mocked, and laughed. “I just had to risk my life over and over…”

Leilana shrugged, amused, “It’s the way it is. Though, I have been meaning to speak with you.” Her eyes went a little darker, giving Ashara a knowing look.

Ashara let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you as well,” as she gestured to the door to the rotunda, “Shall we?”

The Spymaster raised an eyebrow but nodded.

No one noticed the two of them slip away.

It took about 30 minutes before the two of them returned to the main hall, just in the right amount of time before people started to wonder where they had gone to. Ashara nodded towards Leilana, who returned the gesture, and both went their separate ways.

Ashara made sure to mingle with everyone after that. To thank each and every one of them for helping her, even those she hadn’t had spent time with. She spoke to Bull about his desire to stick around, and Dorian’s want to stay until Tevinter really came calling for him. Cassandra was to be the next Divine, despite everything the Seeker was trying to do to get out of it. With Varric, Ashara lingered around, idly chatting about him wanting to write about this whole mess.

“You should. You’re the only one I’d trust to write it,” Ashara noted, and Varric looked up at her from his chair and shrugged.

“I don’t know how it ends yet,” He said, as he looked behind her to Cullen discussing something with a noble, and looked back to her. “From the look on your face, it won’t be good.”

“I don’t think any of us know how our stories end, Varric, isn’t that the point?” She raised an eyebrow, and Varric shook his head.

“Not like that, Bluebird. You’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The last time I saw that look was when you left Kirkwall.”

“Ah.” _Well, shit._ “Varric…”

He held up his hand, and shook his head. “Listen, I get it. You got some shit you gotta do. But try to explain it to Curly over there? He’s hopeless about you.”

“Yeah,” Ashara felt her cheeks heat, “I know.”

“At least you can be with him, you know.” Varric muttered as he took a drink from his ale, staring straight ahead, and she didn’t need to follow his gaze to see he was looking at Cassandra. When she became Divine, she would have to give up all her romantic entanglements. She’d have to give up Varric.

“Maybe things will change? Maybe she will…”

“You know she won’t, Blue,” Varric gave a sad chuckle, “Her stubbornness is something I love about her.” The sad look on his face changed as he shook his head, “Ah, don’t let me ruin the night. Go. Enjoy the night. Just don’t forget me,” he teased.

She laughed, “You’re hard to forget. You know, cause all of the chest hair.”

“Ouch,” He replied in jest, as Ashara left his side.

As she walked past Varric, she caught Cullen’s eye and gestured for him to follow her, and he did not hesitate in doing so. She just wanted to slip away, she wanted a quiet moment, she wanted….

She reached her door, and hesitated. Cullen, stood beside her, smiling warm and gently, safe and calm. “I was hoping…” He started, and she nodded.

She opened the door and lead him inside, as they walked up to her chambers. “How are the voices,” She asked softly, as they reached her room, the door securely shut behind them.

“Quiet,” He said, as he followed her out to the balcony. “I hope they stay that way.”

“I think they will,” She said, the balcony’s cold night air cooling her skin, and she felt him behind her, wrapping his arms around her. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall back into him. Where she was safe, where she was loved, where nothing could harm her.

She didn’t want to go.

“What happens now?” Cullen asked quietly, his breath warm on her ear. She shifted in his arms, turning around to face him, placing her hands on his chest.

“I don’t know,” She said, lying, and found she had tears in her eyes. She was overwhelmed. “I…Cullen, there is so much I need to tell you,” she started, but stopped again. “But I just want…”

Cullen moved his hands slowly from her waist and up her back. “Anything I can give you, is yours, Ashara. Always.”

“You,” She said softly, “I just want you.”

Gently, she pushed against his chest, walking him backwards into the bedroom, kissing him as reached for the hem of his shirt. Thankful that they had changed out of their armors before the celebration, and thankful it was that much easier to reach him.

The kiss broke as she pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side, and he wrapped his arms around her, picking her up and carrying her over to the bed. This was what she wanted. She wanted romance, she wanted compassion, she wanted and needed to savor this.

He set her down on the bed, and she took off her shirt herself. Cullen looked at her with devotion and desire, watching her as she removed the rest of her clothing, and he did the same. Bare to each other, nothing between them.

She gestured for him to join her in the bed, and he did so happily, quickly and passionately kissing her, settling between her legs as she rested her head against the pillow. The buildup of the warmth of her body, feeling him pressed against her, the need and want to just get lost.

Cullen broke the kiss as he kissed her neck, and Ashara arched against his touch as he moved his hand down between her legs. She gasped out as she felt his hand, his fingers, and she eagerly rocked against him, as he continued to kiss her neck.

It was building up her need, her desire, her want to be here with him. To stay with him. To never leave his side. To just be loved for who she was now, not for what her past had expected of her. A fresh start, a new start, all before her brilliantly kissing her and teasing her until she was a ruin.

“Cullen,” She gasped out, trying to shift him so that he would give her what she needed, and he lifted his head from her neck as he looked her over, slowly moving his hand away and up her thigh, resting on her hip. She groaned at his absence.

“I love you,” She whispered, shifting to wrap her legs around him.

“I love you too,” he replied, as he allowed her to guide him to her, and in one movement filled her to the hilt. Together the two of them gasped out, and he started with deliberately slow thrusts as she dug her nails into his arms to try to get him to move faster, move harder against her.

Digging her nails into him caused a reaction of him moaning loudly, almost a growl as he moved harder against her, and she pulled him down to kiss him, biting at his lower lip. She didn’t want it as slow as she had thought before. She just wanted. It was all that she needed, she just needed him.

She came loudly, calling out his name and he soon followed, the two of them just kissing each other off their high, muttering declarations of love on each other’s skin, their tethers, anything they could do to just stay close to each other. But parting was fine, soon cleaning each other up in the bath before arousing each other once more while getting clean.

This was the life that she wanted. This was the life she needed. This was the life she deserved.

But she couldn’t stay.

They returned to the bed, getting under the sheets and didn’t fall asleep right away.

He told her how much he loved her. How proud of her he was. That he was glad to be by her side. That he always would be.

She cried, overwhelmed with the emotions, and knowing what would come next. But she didn’t tell him. Instead she kissed him, marked him, reminded him how much she cared.

He fell asleep first in her arms, and she gently ran her fingers through his hair. She watched him carefully and wished there was a way she could carry this image with her.

But she couldn’t.

She dressed quietly in the dark, and watched Cullen as he slept in the bed she had just left. He was peaceful, content. She had brought him that peace, and it _ruined_ her to take it all away. Tears quietly fell down her face as she moved around the room silently, gathering what she needed. Not much, but enough.

Lastly, she wrote him a letter. It wouldn’t be enough, she knew that. Nothing she said in that letter would ever be enough, but she couldn’t explain the whole thing. She couldn’t explain that she had to keep an eye on Solas, to make sure he kept to his promise. She couldn’t explain that she needed to help raise the Elves up in a way that wouldn’t destroy the rest of the world. She couldn’t explain that now without the Orb, and without the Amulet of Mythal, the magic of the anchor was going to consume her body and soul.

She’d still live, that much was true. But she wouldn’t be a person anymore, just a walking magical focus. Alive, but not living.

The letter was folded up and she rested it on what had been her pillow, next to Cullen’s head. He shifted in his sleep as she set it down, and her heart ached. She wanted to curl back into bed, tell herself that everything was going to be okay, and that she could just _be._

Instead, she conjured up a blue feather, and gently rested it on top of the letter before slipping on her Ring of Doubt, and left her quarters.

She took time to look at the main hall, folks still there but most of them asleep at the tables or too drunk to notice anything strange going on. Still cloaked, she slipped into the rotunda, looking at one of the last paintings, unfinished by Solas.

The outline of a lion staring up at an outline of a blue bird in the sky.

Ashara inhaled sharply, and smiled. As she stood in front of the painting, still cloaked, she heard footsteps behind her. Leilana walked up to the painting, and stared straight ahead.

“He will be looked after, I promise you,” Leilana spoke, staring at the last painting. “Please stay in touch, Nislean'ean.”

Ashara did not speak, and she walked past Leilana, letting her hand ghost onto Leilana’s shoulder for a moment so the woman knew she was leaving. With that, Ashara left the main hall, and left Skyhold behind.

She left her heart, sleeping peacefully, behind.

***

The Temple of Mythal was as beautiful as she remembered it. But this time, as she walked through the halls, there were no fighting. There were no sentinels awake. Well, none but one.

“Nislean'ean,” Abelas nodded to her as she walked into the temple, and she nodded a greeting as well.

“Hello Abelas. Is he here?”

“Yes,” The sentinel nodded, and lead her through the temple to the well. The stairs that Abelas had formed in the initial rush to the well were still there. Though nothing remained but an empty well and a broken mirror.

They reached the clearing at the top, to find the mirror was no longer broken. In front of it, stood Flemeth. With her, was Solas.

The two of them had been in discussion, but turned to look at Ashara and Abelas as they approached.

“Ashara,” Solas said softly, holding his hand out to her. As she got closer, she took his hand and squeezed it.

“Let’s not use that name anymore,” She said softly, clearing her throat. “I think I’m more than that now.”

Flemeth looked at the two of them, and nodded, “Nislean'ean, it is nice to _actually_ meet you, but you know that I cannot stay.”

Ashara nodded. Flemeth turned to Solas, “My old friend, you were a fool.”

“I know,” He said, sorrow in his voice, as he took her hands into hers. “I was weak, I could not unlock the power myself.”

“You took this girl’s poor memories to help you,” She softly chided him in return, “You weaponized her. The one thing you never wanted to be yourself by the others.”

“I know,” He choked out. “Ir abelas.”

She tsked, “I am not the one you should apologize to, Fen’Harel.”

Ashara stepped forward, “I have forgiven him,” She spoke, as she looked to Solas. He turned to her in surprise, “We have a long history. We are both prone to mistakes, and we will get through them. You are my friend, Solas, you are my family. The only one I had ever known until the Inquisition. And in a way, you gave me that family as well. So yes,” She looked back to Flemeth. “I have forgiven him.”

“The magic is growing strong in you, child. It will devour you.”

“The orb,” Solas sighed, “It is destroyed. And we cannot find the amulet.”

“You know what we must do then, old friend.”

There was sadness once more in his voice. “I do. I’m sorry, I am so sorry.”

“We were preparing for this moment. For twenty years.”

“Wait,” Ashara held her hands up, “Preparing for what? Solas, what is going on?”

Solas took Ashara’s hand and put it in Flemeth’s hand. “You are her descendant, Ashara.” She shot him a look for using a different name, but he did not budge. “And you can carry her with you.”

Flemeth squeezed Ashara’s hand, “Your tether is not just to Fen’Harel, my dear. But to Mythal as well.”

Ashara gasped out in surprise, but she did not move. “I have never had anything with her in my mark.”

“Because it did not form until this temple. But we are all connected. You are meant to carry me through to this new world. I can help you control the power, but the amulet must be found or you will become a shell of who you are.”

Abelas stepped forward, speaking for the first time to break his silence. “It is time.”

Flemeth and Solas nodded. Flemeth let go of Solas’s other hand and took Ashara’s. She rested her forehead against Ashara’s. “Be well, my child,” She said softly, as she willed her magic out of her body. Ashara tensed, not sure what to do, but felt Solas’ hand on her shoulder, letting her use his magic as a pull.

Slowly she pulled Mythal’s wisp into her, and held onto Flemeth as the two of them fell to their knees. Ashara closed her eyes, the last of the power being pulled into her, and when she opened them, she saw Flemeth petrified in her arms.

She gasped in surprise, but Abelas and Solas were at her side. They lifted Flemeth’s body and rested it in a small section by the mirror, and rested flowers over her. Abelas said something quiet that sounded like a prayer, but Ashara couldn’t quiet hear it.

Slowly, she stood up, and took a deep breath. The anchor’s magic was controlled for the moment, feeling Mythal holding it at bay.

She looked up at Solas, her eyes glowing white, and finally understood.

“Where do we go?” She asked, as she looked at the repaired mirror behind him.

“Home,” He said, as he held out his hand for her to take. He led her to the mirror, and she lifted her hand, the mirror’s magic rippling beneath her fingers.

“Home.” She repeated, sadly. Her home wasn’t here, her home was bright eyes and blond hair, awkward blushes and beautiful laughs, a white-gold lion standing tall protecting the blue bird.

But she knew that was not where this mirror would lead them. It would not lead her back to Cullen, and it would not lead her back to Skyhold.

Solas and Ashara looked at each other for a moment, and nodded, before they stepped through the mirror together.

Behind them, Abelas sealed the Eluvian, and it darkened once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man, i really love torturing cullen and ashara, don't i?


	18. Chapter 18

_Cullen,_

_Before I continue, know that I love you. I love you, and I wish that I could stay with you, but I can’t. I know you want to help me with whatever I need, but I’m afraid it can’t work that way. Not right now._

_Know that everything we had was real. Is real. Meeting you changed me in ways I didn’t even know until recently._

_The Inquisition is yours now to do with as you please. You’re the only one I trust to take over, or even disband it. What we had set out to do is done. From here on out, you call the shots._

_I hope that this path will lead me back to you some day. I want that more than anything. But I must see this through. I have to go to him, and make sure that whatever he had planned before, has changed._

_It’s the only way I can make sure to save.... Save us, if there is anything left after I leave._

_Ar lath ma, vhenan. Always._

_Yours,_

_Ashara_

***

It had been six months.

Six months since he woke up alone in her bed. Six months since he read her letter. Six months since he had tried to find her, and there was nothing.

There were no clues, there was no indication of where she was, if she was even alive.

It had been six months since he was named the acting leader of the Inquisition.

He refused to take the title because it did not belong to him. He refused to just wipe away all that Ashara had been, all that she had done.

But it had been six months without a word, a hope, a note. The only consolation he had, was that his tether, while it had not grown, it was not fading. He held onto the hope that it meant that she was alive, that she still cared, that they were still connected.

The blue feather she had left for him was always on his person. The first week after her disappearance, Dagna helped him weave it into a rope necklace, and he always wore it under his clothing. During the days, he kept a straight face, he gave off a commanding presence, and kept the Inquisition running.

During the nights, in the privacy of friends who had stayed after Corypheus’ defeat, he allowed himself to remove the mask he wore and reveal himself.

There were fewer members of the Inquisition now. Vivienne, angry she was not named Divine, left and had no intention of speaking to the Inquisition again. Sera had left to go do what she had done before, which, Cullen wasn’t exactly _sure_ what she had done before. Blackwall, now Thom Rainer, went to join the Wardens exiled in earnest, and no one had heard from him since. Cassandra was made Divine, and sat upon the Sunburst Throne, if not reluctantly.

Because she had left the person she loved behind, and Cullen understood how it felt to _be_ left behind. Thus, Varric and Cullen had gotten closer over the last few months. Dorian and Bull stayed as well, Dorian not ready to leave for Tevinter, and Bull promising to help find Ashara and bring her back safe. Leilana still was the Spymaster, Josephine was still the Ambassador, but their roles were different now. Smaller. Cole was around, but he came and went as he pleased, as he always had. But was always there when Cullen needed someone to speak to; Cole never gave any hint to where Ashara was, though.

The Inquisition was smaller than it had been before. Their mission, why they had formed, was done. But Cullen still held onto it, desperately, as if it was a means for Ashara to return.

It had been six months, and there was nothing. No sign of Solas. No sign of Ashara. The scandalous rumors among Skyhold at first had been that the two of them had run off together, to be lovers, holding an affair right under the Commander’s nose. He hated that, at first, he had considered it true. Leilana had led him to the rotunda that night, showing him the last painting that Solas was working on.

A lion and a blue bird, proud and connected, looking to the sky.

That, somehow, had been the proof he needed that the rumor had not been true.

Still, the days turned into nights. Turned into weeks. Turned into months. Turned into half a year.

During the months, they had a few goals. Find Ashara was the main one, to follow any lead they could find, without the world knowing that the Inquisitor had gone missing. Second, was to find an amulet. A month after Ashara left, Varric brought the story to Leilana and Cullen, an Amulet of Mythal that Ashara had been looking for in Kirkwall and was looking for again in the Arbor Wilds.

“We did not find the amulet in the Arbor Wilds,” Leilana noted, and Varric nodded.

“Because it was gone before we got there. Someone knows Blue is looking for it and is trying to keep it from her.”

“Why? Do we know what it does?”

“No idea,” Varric shrugged, “But if Blue is looking for it, it’s important.”

So that was their new mission. To find this amulet, whatever it was, whatever it did. Their leads sent them all over Thedas, always seeming to be one step behind.

What Bull had pointed out was that each time they were close, there were more appearances of Elves. Elves without their marks on their faces, but they weren’t City Elves. When Bull had also found one of those Elves at Skyhold, as one of their scouts, a decision had to be made.

There were spies within the Inquisition. The organization had gotten too large, too robust, that it was starting to hinder their ability to get things done. Even if most had moved on, those who stayed seemed to block them from achieving their goals.

Six months ago, the Inquisitor had left. And now, six months after she left, the Inquisition was disbanded completely.

They made quite the show of it, and kept the truth to their small inner circle: they would still work together to find Ashara and the amulet, but no more would they employ those they did not know and trust.

They left Skyhold, clearing out completely, and headed somewhere new. Leilana had found an abandoned keep, on the edge of the Emerald Graves, and they set up shop there.

Six months had blossomed into seven. Blossomed into eight.

Cullen had become very single focused on the task, holding onto the hope that they’d find her. Find what she needed. If it had to be used as a bargaining chip, so be it. But they all worked towards that goal, depending on each other as they could.

In the tenth month since Ashara left, Cullen had decided to travel with Varric into a nearby town. There was a tavern that Varric had been meaning to visit, and while Cullen hadn’t wanted to leave what he was doing in the keep, he agreed. Eventually, it turned into a bit of an outing for the group, as Dorian and Bull tagged along.

The four men walked into the tavern, populated with different types of people, but everyone seemed to be minding their own business. They didn’t wear anything that identified them as who they used to be for the Inquisition. In the corner, there was a banner that stated the tavern and town was under the protection of the Inquisition, but it was old and tattered. Might have even been used as a target practice at one point.

Cullen, months ago, would have taken some sort of offence to that. Now, he simply looked at the banner and shrugged, following the others up to the bar.

They took up the corner of the bar, Cullen sitting next to Varric, and Bull and Dorian next to them on the other side. They were given ales and started to just talk about anything _other_ than what they were doing. Old stories about who they had been _before_ , what they wanted to do in the future, but nothing about the present.

Around them, chatter of different people grew louder as the minutes turned into hours. Varric was telling wild stories, using code names for folks that they knew, and Cullen found himself honestly laughing for the first time in almost a year. It felt light, to have some tension off his shoulders, even if he knew it would not and could not last.

“Varric,” Dorian laughed, “I don’t understand, who am I in this story?”

“The bard.”

“The _bard_?” He scoffed, “Do I look like a bard?”

“You know,” Cullen leaned forward, and actually laughed, “You could pass as that Zither fellow.”

Bull laughed hard at that, slamming his hand down on the table, “That’s a good one!”

Dorian groaned, “Absolutely not. Let us talk of something else other than myself being a _bard_.”

Varric shrugged. “I got a letter the other day,” he picked up his tankard and took a drink. “From the Divine.”

The laughter subsided, as Varric’s expression fell, and Cullen put a hand on the man’s shoulder. Varric shrugged it off, “Don’t worry, Curly, I’ll be fine. She wants to see me, which I am not exactly sure she is allowed to do, being all Holy now.”

“Perhaps she’s wanting to change the rules? The Divine could finally take a lover!” Dorian sounded a little too excited for it, but it did make Varric laugh.

“Doubt that. I’m not sure if I’m going.”

Cullen shook his head, “You’re going.”

“What?”

Cullen took a long drink from his tankard, setting it down, pushing it forward to be refilled. “If you have a chance to see her, you should take it. If I had that chance…” He got lost in thought for a moment, thinking of what it could be like to see Ashara again. If only for a moment, to just know that she was alright. Alive.

“Curly, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have brought this up.”

“I’m serious. You should go. We all should…consider that we’re not going to get what we’re working towards in the end.”

“Cullen…” Dorian softly spoke, and Cullen shook his head.

“It’s almost been a _year_ Dorian. And yes, we’ve made _some_ progress, we haven’t made _enough_. I don’t think it’s foolish for others to consider their futures now.”

Bull cleared his throat, “I think maybe I’ll see if they’ve got any rooms upstairs to rent out. Kadan, you want to join me?”

Dorian looked to Bull and nodded once. “Try to think of better thoughts, Cullen,” he said as he got out of his chair and walked past him. He patted his shoulder for a moment, before the two of them went to speak to the inn owner, an older Elven gentleman with brown hair, in the corner of the room.

As Dorian and Bull spoke to the Innkeeper, Cullen turned back to his tankard, to find it being refilled by a woman. She smiled brightly at him and Varric. “Enjoying the ales?” The elf woman had short brown hair, and brown eyes. Her smile felt familiar, but Cullen couldn’t place it. Perhaps someone he had met in the past, or someone who once worked for the Inquisition. He didn’t want to ask.

“We are,” Varric noted, “My friend here needed a night out, and we, his _ever loyal friends_ , were happy to bring him out. I think two of our friends are speaking to the owner of this place to get rooms?”

The woman looked to where Varric gestured to, and she smiled, “Yes, that’s my brother Feralan. We’ve owned this tavern and inn for quite some time, but you four are the first new customers we’ve seen in months. It’s nice to see new faces.”

“What’s your name?”

“Oh! How rude of me! I’m Namari. Feralan runs the inn part of our establishment, I run the tavern. It’s a great partnership.” She refilled their tankards and set them back in front of them, and put one hand on the bar top and the other on her hip.

Cullen watched as she shifted, unable to help looking her over. Which had apparently been obvious, because Namari laughed. “Do you see something you like?”

He felt his cheeks burn a bright hot red, and he cleared his throat. “I…Maker, I’m sorry, you just…seem very familiar to me.” He quickly took a drink from the ale, “I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend.”

Namari laughed again, and it sounded so bright and light. She looked to Varric, “Is your friend always this quick to trip over his words?”

Varric chuckled, “’Fraid so.”

Cullen glared at Varric.

“Well,” Namari smirked, “If you want to get to know me, I can chat with you in an hour or so…”

Cullen cleared his throat, the blush not going away any time soon, he was certain of it. “I’m sorry, I…my heart belongs to another.”

Her expression softened, as she put her hand over her heart. “Oh, I am so sorry! Foolish of me to assume!”

“It’s quite alright, I haven’t seen her in some time.”

“I hope that you can soon,” She said sweetly and with understanding, and turned her gaze from Cullen and Varric to behind them, and she smiled. “Feralan, do we have enough room for these gentlemen tonight?”

Cullen turned behind him in the chair to look at Dorian, Bull, and the elven man named Feralan. He was tall, slim build, older than his sister Namari, “Of course, Namari,” He took a step closer and whispered, but so the others could hear, “Do you know who these men _are_?”

Namari looked confused and shook her head.

“They’re from the Inquisition!”

“ _Oh!”_ Namari laughed, and gasped, “I thought you all looked familiar, I am so sorry for not recognizing you all!” Both Feralan and Namari bowed their heads in respect, and Dorian, Bull, Cullen, and Varric all looked to each other in confusion.

Cullen cleared this throat, “I apologize, should we…do we know you?”

Feralan shook his head, “I doubt that you would, we were just one of hundreds that followed! It is no offense to us that you do not know.”

Namari added, “We’re both rogues, we worked under the Spymaster as her scouts most of the time. Feralan is a wonderful archer, but I prefer twin daggers myself,” She looked to Feralan and they shared a smile.

“We look back on our time in the Inquisition with great respect. It is a shame it was disbanded. But it is nice to know you all remain friends,” Feralan bowed. “We have two rooms available tonight, two beds in one room, and the other has one bed, I’m afraid. But it is all we can offer.”

Dorian, who had been shocked to silence, cleared his throat, “That should be no problem, how much do we owe you for the night?”

Feralan shook his head, “Nothing. It is the least we can do. We insist.”

Namari nodded, “Yes, and nothing for the drinks either. It’s an _honor_ to have you in our establishment.”

Varric laughed, “Alright, this is getting weird, so we’re just going to nod and say thank you. So,” he looked to Bull.

Bull nodded, “Yeah, thanks. Like he said.”

“I’m afraid we are closing up the tavern for the night though, but kindly let me know if there is anything that we can get for you to your rooms? I hope you find them suitable for your needs.” Namari said with a small smile.

“We should be okay. Thank you,” Cullen nodded, as he stood up from his chair, only then realizing that he was a bit drunk. He chuckled at this, “A bed sounds nice.”

They headed up the stairs, and Bull and Dorian took the room with one bed, where Cullen and Varric shared the other room. Cullen didn’t stay awake long enough to do anything other than pass out immediately on the small bed in the corner.

***

As so many of his dreams were in the year, he would be sitting under a tree, waiting for someone who would never come. Sometimes, a little bird would come and rest on a rock in front of him, but if he tried to reach it, it would fly away.

The same dream happened, but this time, as the bird landed, it brought something with it. It looked like a necklace. When Cullen got up from the tree, he walked to the rock. As always, the bird flew away, but the necklace remained.

It was silver and gold, and the base was a small carving of a dragon’s head. The silver rope was weaved in with gold.

When he held it, it seemed powerful. Not thinking of it, he put it in his pocket, and returned back to the tree.

***

Eventually, the sun rose and he woke up. Varric was snoring loudly in his own bed in the corner of the room, and Cullen rolled his eyes. Picking up a shoe, he threw it towards Varric, who immediately woke up and laughed. “Okay, okay, I’m up. No need to throw things at me, Curly.”

Cullen in return groaned and held is head. “I feel awful.”

“Hungover, more like it. Glad we got out, but I can’t drink like that anymore,” Varric got out of the bed and stretched, and laughed at Cullen’s expression – he didn’t believe him. “Okay, I can, but I was trying to go easy on you.”

“Whatever you say,” He stretched his arms up over his head, and as he got out of the bed, and put his feet on the ground, he felt something in his pocket.

He started to put his hand in his pocket, when Dorian’s worried voice called out from the tavern below. “Varric? Cullen? You might want to come down here. Now, if you don’t mind…”

Cullen and Varric shared a look, before they pulled their boots back on, and grabbed whatever belongings they had with them and left the room.

But the difference was noticeable the moment they walked out of the room. Instead of the bright welcoming warmth of the tavern and inn they experienced before, it was dark and gray. Cold. “This place doesn’t make sense to be this cold…” Varric muttered as they walked down the stairs, broken and destroyed in pieces.

When they got down to the tavern area, they saw Dorian and Bull standing by the bar. But everything around them was in ruins. Walls were missing, the furniture they had seen the night before was gone. In fact, it looked like this place had seen war.

It looked like no one had been here for years, and yet it was alive last night.

“Why didn’t I noticed this,” Dorian asked, “I should have felt the magic spell, I should have seen it…”

“Maybe they disguised the magic, whoever it was? Is that possible?” Cullen asked, rubbing at his neck.

To be standing in the ruins of the tavern, not seeing any sign of life at all, it was absurd. “Were we in the Fade?”

Dorian shook his head, “No, I think at this point, only you and I can be considered Dreamers, and you Cullen are a far stretch.”

Varric raised his hand, “Can’t dream.”

“So, this was clearly a very strong and power spell. To be able to completely recreate something to its former glory, is absolutely…. it’s _amazing_. Whoever did this…”

“I have an idea,” Bull muttered, and gestured to the only last piece of furniture standing, a part of the bar.

On it, there was the Inquisition banner, wrapped around something. Cullen stepped forward, unwrapping the banner he had noticed the night before, to find a piece of paper that just read _Check your pocket_.

He had read the note out loud, to the confusion of the others, and everyone reached into their pockets. When Cullen did, his hand caught into something and he pulled it out.

Silver and gold, a dragon’s head. An Amulet. The voices of Mythal’s bound, the voices he had not heard for almost a year, seemed to come to life, in excitement. _You found it. You have it. You did it. The Amulet. It is the Amulet._ He winced and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“The voices, they’re back,” Varric noted, and Cullen nodded.

Cullen held out his hand and showed them what he had in his pocket. “It’s the Amulet of Mythal.”

“Andraste’s ass, how did you get that?”

“I…” Cullen sighed, “I don’t know.”

“We need to get back,” Bull grunted, and Cullen put the amulet in the banner, set it with the note, and wrapped it all up in his arms, following the others out.

They returned to the keep by the time the afternoon sun was setting, and the moment the doors were shut securely behind him, Dorian started hollering for Leilana and Josephine, who both came running.

Cullen’s heart was racing. To have the amulet they were looking for, just to appear like this, to just…it was beyond what he had been expecting. As they met in the privacy of one of the rooms, candles were lit as Cullen set the wrapped up banner down on the table. He unwrapped it, and revealed the amulet, and the note.

Leilana picked up the amulet to examine it, and Josephine picked up the note.

“Cullen, did you read this?” Josephine asked, as Cullen stared at the banner on the table.

“It just said to check my pockets,” He replied, and Josephine made a sound.

“No, it…did you turn it over?”

Cullen lifted his head. “What?”

As he took the note from Josephine, Dorian got Leilana’s attention. “When we were at that _lie_ of a tavern, we were greeted by two elves that claimed they worked for _you_ , Leilana. They said they were your agents.”

“Hmm? What did they say their names were?” She lifted her eyes from the amulet in her hands.

Bull shrugged, “Guy said his name was Feralan and his sister was Namari. Claimed they owned the establishment for some time.” Leilana gave out a sound that seemed almost like an amused chuckle.

Leilana gave out a surprised, but happy, sound.

Cullen, finishing reading the note, without a word handed it to Dorian.

“What is, _oh_.”

Josephine hummed unhappily, and Varric pulled the note from Dorian’s hands. “An invitation to meet with a King and Queen? Why is this unusual? Also, who claims they’re a King Commander and Queen Spymaster? That is just _bad writing_.”

Cullen pinched his nose again. “Read the names.”

“What?”

Cullen cleared his throat, “Varric, read the names on the dammed note.”

“King Fen’Harel and Queen Nislean'ean… _Maker._ This is…”

“It’s them,” Leilana nodded, “It’s…”

“Them? What do you mean _them?”_

“Excuse me,” came a voice, and they turned to see Cole, standing in the doorway. “I need to make sure you got the message.”

“Cole…” Cullen walked forward, “Have you known where she is?”

Cole looked to Cullen, and then to Bull, before he looked at Cullen again. “Enemies defeated. Night won. Silver hair shining in the moonlight, the fire warms her face. She laughs, smiles at friends. Her family. Her home. Her heart. _If I ever become royalty, you know something is wrong_.”

Cullen’s eyes go wide. He remembers that conversation. Sitting next to her by the fire. Outside of the Shrine of Dumat, discussing her past. Stories she told; how comfortable they were all together. How she leaned against him and he wrapped an arm around her, feeling content. Her words exactly, warning them, that if she became royalty, they would know something was going on. He exchanges a look with Bull, who holds the same expression. This might not be good. At all.

“Cole.”

“You have the message. I must go. You will remember me being here. We will all see you soon.”

None of them fight Cole leaving, because he would be gone before they had the thought to do so.

When Cole left, Cullen looked back to the banner, where a blue feather had appeared in the middle of it. He picked it up, and twisted it between his fingers, the others looking on in amazement. Cullen focused on the feather.

Varric spoke up, tapping the paper against his other hand. “They’re requesting our appearance in two months’ time. At a place called Tarasyl'an Te'las? Where is that?”

Leilana stood a little taller and cleared her throat. “It’s Skyhold. Tarasyl'an Te'las is Skyhold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> caught some minor errors, so i fixed them! i may also be slowing to post once a week, since we're getting close to the end!


	19. Chapter 19

From the moment the two them had stepped through the Eluvian at the temple, they were no longer Ashara and Solas. Those two had entered the mirror, but Nislean'ean and Fen’Harel walked out, complete with armor magically placed on them. He wore the armor she had seen in the fade, decorative and study, greens and gold. She wore a similar and slimmer armor, a mix of the sentinel armor, with silvers and blacks. Hints of blue shined through it.

When they had arrived at the estate, it was to find hundreds of Dalish waiting for them. She had looked upon them in shock, that as they entered, every single one of them _bowed_ as if they were royalty.

_Royalty_. She had joked that she was never one suited for that life, but here people were worshiping the ground she was on. It was different from ‘your worship’ of being the Herald or the Inquisitor.

No, she was standing beside a myth, a tale of gods turned real.

Solas took some pride in this, but it did not seem that he took a lot, insisting that everyone stood up once they got to the main hall.

The two of them stood on the stairs, looking out to a sea of faces, blood slave markings of the vallasins on their faces.

“What now?” Ashara had spoken soften to him, and Solas sighed and stood up straighter.

“We free them.”

He summoned a young Dalish boy to him, the mark of Andruil on his face, and with a spell, Solas removed the marks. He explained what they were, what they meant, what Ashara had always known. As Inquisitor, she was looked down upon by not having those markings, and she had actually been _ashamed_ she had never taken the marks with any of her clans. But with her memories back…she was thankful she remembered. Thankful that he had taught her the true meaning.

With his magic mixing with hers through the anchor, Ashara helped in removing the marks of the hundreds in the estate. They freed them all, and word of it soon spread through Thedas among the Elves.

The first month was the two of them helping those who came to them, asking to be free of those they had once thought of as gods. They agreed, they helped, worked day and night to spread the message. The first month was of them working side by side, but not speaking much.

The second and third month, the amount of Elves coming to them dwindled, though still some came each day. But the hunt for the Amulet had begun in earnest. There were not many that Solas had trusted with their plan, and Ashara sometimes found himself working silently alone. While the anchor wasn’t hurting her, it was growing. Little by little, every day. While Solas stayed in the estate, leading what had become their troops for the hunt, Ashara dealt in secrets and lies. What she had been good at when she was Fen’Harel’s top Agent before, and she had slipped into the role again so easily.

It bothered her how easily she could slip back into the role.

When she was Inquisitor, she didn’t need to hide. There was no need for it. But now she had to hide, had to disappear from the watchful eye of Thedas to get what she needed. Those who thought they knew what the Amulet could do in the wrong hands wanted it for their own power. Others would do anything to keep it out of _anyone’s_ hands, lest get the wrath of Andraste herself for being blasphemous.

Ashara just wanted it so she wouldn’t become a magic shell. Solas wanted that as well, or so she thought, but there were days where she couldn’t tell. Where she could see the look in his eye when he was talking to their Lieutenants, and it reminded her of before, when she was younger and he commanded her in the Fade to lead the way.

To give his Orb to Corypheus to unlock, to give him his power back so he could tear the world apart.

She needed to make sure that didn’t happen. With the Orb destroyed, and the magic from the anchor officially blending in with her magic, it was no longer _his_ to have. How it moved and sang through her veins, it would quite possibly belong to _no one_ if they were not careful.

Whatever he had planned for the veil, for vengeance, it couldn’t happen now.

It was something that Mythal knew as well, and Ashara spent her time alone, conversing with the woman now that she carried her within. Both women wanted the same thing: to protect the People, but to protect their dear friend from himself.

It got lonely. More than Ashara wanted to admit.

But there was someone she still kept in touch with from the Inquisition. When it came to this correspondence, no one was allowed to know of it. This correspondence, she delivered in person.

In the fourth month, she had sent a message ahead with one of their Agents, to Skyhold. That night, Ashara walked through the mirror in the depths of Skyhold, and found Leilana waiting for her.

“Ashara.”

“Leilana.”

The two women stared at each other before Leilana broke first and ran over to Ashara, and the two women hugged. “Maker, you look _stunning_ ,” Leilana teased, “I hardly recognize you.”

Ashara sighed, “This is what happens, I suppose.” She looked down at her armor, running her fingers over her chest plate for a moment before looking back up. “This was my armor before, I just always preferred lighter things. Easier to sneak around.”

“I understand the feeling. Have you had any luck?”

“In which respects?”

“Both,” Leilana shrugged, “If I am being honest.”

Ashara lifted her hand and rubbed the back of her neck. The action alone reminded her of watching Cullen do it so many times in the past, that she dropped her hand quickly. Being here hurt. Her anchor was tingling, knowing he was so close, and she wouldn’t come close to speaking to him. “Somewhat, on both respects. We have some leads with the Amulet, thanks to you, but we’ve got to get better and coordinating. One of my Agents said he spotted Bull when he went to the drop.”

“I heard of that, I apologize, I—”

“Leilana, either we are working together or we are not at all. Are you still with me on this?”

Leilana’s shoulder stiffened, and she nodded. “Yes. I’ve found some more material for you,” She gestured to a box in the corner, “if you want to go through it. But how are things with Fen’Harel?”

The sigh that escaped Ashara was a loud one, and she closed her eyes. Leilana chuckled, “Oh?”

She opened her eyes again. “For the moment, I believe that he thinks that I have the right idea. We save me, and then we work on relationships of what the Elves _should_ be, with everyone else. It will take time. He claims he understands, but there are times I see…” She shook her head, “It’s hard to be around him. To be there, and not _here_.”

“I imagine working with an ex-lover is _never_ easy,” Leilana noted with amusement, and Ashara scoffed a laugh.

“No. It’s not.” She bit her lip for a moment, “How is he? Cullen, I…”

“He misses you. He won’t say it, of course, and he’s thrown himself into work. Getting him to do anything else takes a lot of pulling from Josie or I. He’s found some connection with Varric though. They have…something they can bond on.”

Ashara sighed. Of course, she hadn’t thought of what others might have been going through, that her friends might also be hurting in other ways. She wanted to ask how everyone was. She wanted to leave the room and run up to the main hall and announce that she was back. _So sorry, everyone, but I’m here to stay! It will never happen again!_ It wasn’t that easy. Instead, she just nodded. “I am glad they have each other. But I need to get going.”

“Before you do,” Leilana held a hand up, “We will not be staying here long. Perhaps two more months, we have announced our intention to disband. Cullen is certain we have spies in our ranks.”

Ashara raised an eyebrow at her.

“Well, other than myself and my Agents, of course. Due to the incident that Bull reported, we have decided it is best to close our ranks and remain small. We will not be staying here.” Leilana held her hands out to Ashara, “I thought perhaps it was best to return it to its original owner.”

Ashara took Leilana’s hands, but looked at her with shock – before it went into amusement. “Just how much do you know?”

“More than you told me, my friend. Now go, before both of us are missed.” Leilana squeezed her hands, and let go. “If I could give Cullen anything from you…”

“I know. But I…”

“I know. Be well.”

Leilana left the room and locked it, and Ashara reapplied the wards. She dug through the box that Leilana had set up – removing anything she had added in to track her movements, though amused the Spymaster still thought to do that – and once she gathered everything she headed back through the mirror.

The walk back from the mirror, locked behind her, kept her on edge. As far as she knew, Solas was not aware of her correspondence with Leilana, or that she was working with the Spymaster for information. She took private paths back to the estate, and slipped in unseen, heading to her own office that had been set up for her.

Solas and Ashara had set up in two separate parts of the estate, each getting a wing to themselves. It was easier this way, easier on both of their hearts and the emotions that might have lingered with the history between them. Her office reminded her a lot of Skyhold, but how she had decorated it for her own tastes. It felt warm, and welcoming, but it still was not home.

When she entered the office, she set the box down on the desk in the middle. She took off her gauntlets and let them drop to the side, as she let her head fall down.

Behind her, she heard him. “Nislean'ean, did you think I would not know?”

She lifted her head, and looked straight ahead. Instead, she took off her chest plate, and set it on the desk, as if she was ignoring him.

“Nislean'ean.” His voice was more firm, and it was then that she turned around.

“Of course, the _great Fen’Harel_ just knows _everything_!” She spat back in anger, “Do you think I would not know that you’re still trying to tear down the veil?”

He took a step forward, his arms at his side, “To see the people as they are now, you would really abandon this? Now that you also carry Mythal with you?”

“It is not abandoning the People,” She said, “ _We_ want to see this done a different way. The way that was _discussed_.”

“Yet you’re going to the Inquisition behind my back.”

“I left them _for you_ , are you seriously questioning me right now? I left my family behind, I left… _everything_ behind, _Solas_. I will not see everything that I care for be destroyed.” She stood a little straighter. She took a step towards him, “Do you understand me?”

“Ashara…” He raised a hand in surrender, but she shook her head.

“No. Listen to me. You will respect me, you will treat me as your equal, you will understand that being here is not easy for me. It’s not easy for either of us, and if we are going to change people’s views on us and the Elves, we have to work together. Yes, I am in contact with Leilana. Yes, she is giving me the leads on the amulet that she finds, and I am telling her of those who wish to go against the Inquisition. If anything I am doing does not fit your ideal, _I do not care_!” She felt her anger surging more than she wanted it to, felt her magic aura swirling as she stared at him. She felt her eyes glow white, “I will see things be restored so that we can _grow_.”

Solas stepped towards her again, his features pulled into a stern look. “You need to calm down, Ashara.”

“Why?”

“The anchor.”

“Fuck the anchor!”

He grabbed her arm roughly and raised it up to her, pushing up her sleeve. “Look at it!”

It was glowing green and white, the magic pulsing in her veins, and she stared at her hand, as his wrist held her arm in the air between them. It didn’t hurt, but if she had been anyone else…

“Mythal’s magic is only protecting you so much,” Solas sighed, and his voice softened. She watched as he swallowed hard, and gently released her hand, and let his own fall to his side. “I’m not going back on our plan. _Our_ new plan, to save you, and the People, in _this_ world. But I’ve grown scared for you. If we do not find the amulet soon…”

She looked at her hand, flexing her fingers, “How much time do I have?”

“A year. Maybe less than that. It’s hard to tell. Without Mythal, it would have happened already.” Her eyes followed him as he walked to her desk, to the box that she had brought back from the mirror. He looked to her for approval to look at the materials, and she offered a resigned wave of her hand. Permission. He started to pull items out, letters, books, reports. “Has the Spymaster given you anything of use?”

“Skyhold will be abandoned in two months.” She said softly, and he lifted his eyes from the papers to her.

“What?”

“We can reclaim it. If you’d like.”

“What good would it do if we…” He started, his brow furrowed in frustration, before it dawned on him. “Wait, this is good. The place where…”

“You held back the sky,” She finished, a small smile his way as she walked towards the desk. “Everything is thinner there, you and I know that. Commanding it as your stronghold once more can give us what we need to be taken seriously.”

“We’d have to restore it to what it was, not what it is. Would you be okay with that?”

“We’ve outgrown the estate, Solas. More people arrive every day, we cannot keep them all here.” It felt like a familiar conversation. One she had with Cullen and Josephine in Haven, before the attack. Then, remembering Solas telling her about Skyhold, where the Inquisition could grow into something more. “I have one request though.”

“What is it?”

“Keep the frescos in the rotunda.”

“I…” Confusion registered on his face, and she walked over to his side, and put her hand over his.

“Before I left, I saw what you were creating for the last panel. The lion and the bird.”

He stayed silent.

“I want you to finish it.”

“Why.” Not a question. A statement.

“Because it proved to me that you understood that moving forward, even if you have to leave some things in the past, can be a good thing. And, that perhaps you understand that you and I can share…different happiness together than we used to.”

He cleared his throat, a look of honest frustration on his face, but he nodded. “I promise.”

In two months’ time, when the Inquisition left and disbanded and not a single person was left in Skyhold, they entered through the Eluvian. It took effort, to rebuild Skyhold to what it had been, to come Tarasyl'an Te'las as it had been. Solas did most of the work, now that he was stronger and had his full power back. Ashara did her part as she could, but when the anchor acted up and it spread, Solas took over.

It took a month, but soon Tarasyl'an Te'las was what it was before. With the veil thin, they worked together to allow friendly spirits that wished to join them to do so. Wards were placed around to stop malicious spirits and trespassers among them. A thin barrier was set around Tarasyl'an Te'las, rendering it to be seen as it had been _Skyhold_ before, but those who got too close without being welcomed would be caught in a blizzard that would force them to turn back.

Magic hummed and sang in every part of Tarasyl'an Te'las, and Ashara found herself thankful that she was able to see this. She had only seen what it was in the Fade. But seeing it in person, was something else.

Seeing the man she had known for so long bend the magic to his will and bring Tarasyl'an Te'las back to its glory took her breath away.

He had caught her watching him one night, as the last touches were made. They would be welcoming their followers in the next day, to travel through the Eluvian before it was shut down. But the last touches he was making, were not of magic.

He dressed as he used to, in a tunic and leggings, finishing the last fresco, as he had promised her.

Ashara walked into the rotunda as he put the last touches on it. A brilliant white and gold lion, standing large and tall, looking towards the sun. At his side, was a black wolf. Both were looking up to the sky, where large and bright blue bird was flying with its wings spread wide.

“It’s beautiful,” She spoke quietly, as he set to put away his brushes and paint.

“Thank you,” He nodded. “I am glad you’re pleased.”

“You added yourself in it.”

“Yes, I…did.”

“Why?”

Solas turned from the painting, to Ashara. “Every painting in this room is representative of your choices,” gesturing back to the finished painting, “ _this_ represents your past, and your future.”

“Solas…”

He offered a half smile, and moved towards her. “I have long accepted that your heart is not mine to hold onto any longer. But I am thankful for the time we _did_ have. There is so much that could not be done, if not for you. I would not have time to list them all.”

She cleared her throat, feeling a bit of emotion coming over her. “I did not…I didn’t expect you to…”

He chuckled, “Truthfully, I didn’t either. But he is a good man. What you deserve.”

She walked closer to him then, and touched his cheek. He leaned into the touch, before taking her hand and moving it away. She half smiled. “You will always be in my heart, Solas. You’re my family.”

He did not reply to that. He smiled and nodded, and put his hand on her shoulder before he left the rotunda.

***

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Seven months after they had left the Inquisition and had continued their search for the amulet, they had a breakthrough.

They also had a setback.

One night when Ashara had decided to go out and hunt down a clue herself, she had found herself ambushed by a band of mercenaries. Though she had killed them, she had used a large amount of power to do so – and the anchor did not want to be contained to just the base of her arm any longer.

When she had started the return to Tarasyl'an Te'las, the light fabric she had worn as protection was burned off her arm completely.

By the time she had returned, and had made it through the gates, she found Solas waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. She had collapsed then, and he carried her into her quarters to try to calm the anchor’s movements.

The magic had spread up her arm to her shoulder, and was dancing under her skin. When the anchor in her hand flared, the veins of magic flared as well. But that was not the worst of it.

Now, when it flared, she screamed in pain.

It seemed that the magic he had given her years ago, to be able to handle the anchor, was no longer applicable. It no longer protected her from pain, and now every day she was more and more aware of what time she had left.

It had been seven months since Solas told her she had a year before the anchor took her over. Now, it seemed she might have less than that.

But the setback had also been a step forward. “I got what I needed,” She had gasped out that night between pain flaring up. Solas was supplying her with potions to try to keep the pain down, casting a spell over her to try to maintain it for a few hours.

If someone had told a much younger Ashara years ago that at some point in her life, Fen’Harel would be watching her like a worried mother hen, she would have laughed. But right now, she welcomed it. She didn’t have the strength to push it away.

When he didn’t respond, she added, “I know how to get the Amulet.”

His eyes moved up to hers, “How?”

The anchor flared, and she gritted her teeth, breathing out slowly. Words would distract. So, she continued talking. “The well. Only the voices can call to the Amulet, for it to appear. But only when near Mythal.” She struggled to reach for her bag, with the papers, but he stopped her and got them instead.

“Abelas cannot help there,” Solas said softly.

“But, we know who has the power of the well.” Ashara spoke softly, as much as she could, breathing through the pain of the anchor. She took another potion from Solas and shifted on the sofa. “Cullen.”

“ _You_ have Mythal with you, Ashara. If you even say something to him…you may be commanding him without even knowing.”

“I know.”

“Then how do you intend on doing this?”

She gestured to the papers, “Keep reading.” A missive from Leilana. Where they were now. What they were doing to try to find the amulet. They had no luck. Things were looking dim. They were located in an abandoned keep, where the only thing nearby was a burned down inn and tavern, lost during the war.

Solas read over the papers, and lifted his head, meeting Ashara’s eyes. “They are going to think we are baiting them into a trap. How do you suggest that we invite them, without expressing the need for them?”

A voice spoke into the air between them, familiar and compassionate, ever helpful: “Enemies defeated. Night won. Golden hair and armor, bright against the stars. He smiles _This is home_. His heart. He laughs. _Luckily for all of us, you did not take the throne._ ”

Solas and Ashara look at the appearance of Cole with different reactions. Solas seemed confused, not at Cole’s appearance, but at his words. Ashara on the other hand, immediately understood.

“Cole! That’s brilliant! Oh I could _kiss you_.”

“Please don’t.” Cole shook his head, and much to her surprise, she heard Solas chuckle.

“Care to explain?”

“Solas, have you ever wanted to be a king?”

“ _Again_?”

***

It took a month, but everything was in place. They magically restored the inn and tavern, and Solas put a glamour on both of them for disguises. She had picked the names Feralan for him and Namari for her, as if she was _trying_ to give them away. He called her out on it, but she had to remind him that only two people knew her as Nislean'ean and, “If we do this right, they will be too drunk to figure it out.”

The brother and sister, owning the inn and tavern, and all they had to do was wait.

Those who followed them joined in the ‘game’. Those who also wished to help bring peace joined as well, and the tavern had been filled with a mix of races. It almost reminded her of the Inquisition, of what her life had been before. It seemed so long ago.

Ashara had expected they would need to wait weeks.

To her surprise, she only had to wait a day.

Her back had been turned behind the bar, cleaning glasses as the door opened. When she turned around, it took all she had not to jump over the bar and run towards the man who walked in the door.

Cullen. Her beautiful Cullen. He looked different, dressed differently. His hair was getting a little long, and he had grown a bit of a beard, but he was still who she remembered. His eyes were tired, and she knew the look on his face. The look of someone who was longing, who was missing, who did not feel whole.

Her heart ached just looking at him, and so she set to getting the ales ready for the four of them and set them out, immediately turning away.

She had caught Solas’ look from the corner of the room, looking to her as if to say _can you go through with this?_ But she could. She had to.

The key to the amulet was in front of her. The key to her survival was sitting at the bar, talking with others she knew years ago. Varric. Dorian. Bull. She missed them terribly, and it was finally seeing them that she realized just how _alone_ she had been.

To have hundreds of followers was one thing. But she only had Solas to speak to, for friendship. In front of her, her old life beckoned to her, and it took all her strength to play her part.

She didn’t _need_ to ask if Cullen had his eyes on Namari, she was curious. It was almost a year, had he moved on from her? Had he forgotten about her?

“I’m sorry, I…my heart belongs to another.”

Her heart _soared_ and yet was in so much pain at the same time, that she put her hand over her heart to try to still it. She covered it up with some excuse, and ever the gentleman, Cullen had taken the blame.

To tell him that she hoped he’d see his love soon was too much, when she was standing right in front of him.

Solas and Ashara played their parts, got them drunk enough to take the rooms upstairs, and go to sleep.

The next part, had been Ashara’s.

The followers in the tavern filtered out and stayed outside, protecting it. Solas helped Ashara to the floor, and he set a protective barrier over her as she stepped into the Fade.

Searching for Cullen, and finding him in the one place she hadn’t expected.

Haven, where they had last met in the fade. Sitting under the tree, most likely waiting for her. The longing he felt was overwhelming here, the sadness, how much he missed her. It was overwhelming, and she had to be careful not to alert him to her presence.

But Mythal gently called out to the voices, and they appeared as wisps by Cullen’s side. If he noticed them, he made no gesture in giving that away, simply looking ahead at a rock.

Where, when she was here with him last, a blue bird came to rest.

Together, Ashara and Mythal gently asked the voices to bring the Amulet to Cullen. And when the voices agreed, Mythal went quiet and Ashara watched as a wisp transformed into a bird, and brought with it, out of the protective hiding spot, the Amulet.

_Go to the bird. Pick up the amulet. Place it in your pocket._ She willed him, despite hating that she needed to do so. This would be the one time, she told herself. This would be the only time.

She watched as Cullen did exactly as she willed, and sat back beneath the tree.

_In two hours, wake up_. And she stepped out of the Fade and opened her eyes in the waking world.

She cried, as she woke up, overwhelmed with the feelings Cullen had in the Fade, and overwhelmed with her own. But there was no time, as they worked to tear down the magic building the inn back up. The banner she had placed in the corner was put on the remaining structure on the bar.

On top of the banner, she put the note _Check your pockets_. On the back, was the invitation from the ‘King and Queen’ to come to Tarasyl'an Te'las.

She wrapped the banner around it, and followed Solas back to Tarasyl'an Te'las.

There was much to be done before their ‘guests’ arrived, and there was no time to stop now.

She just hoped that Cullen would understand.

And, that he would help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will not be an update this Saturday, so see you next Wednesday :)


	20. Chapter 20

The return to Skyhold was not something he had been expecting.

But then again, this was not the Skyhold he knew. That _any_ of them knew.

The gates opened, welcoming their arrival, and Cullen dismounted from his horse. As his feet touched the ground, it looked as if wisps of magic swirled around him. He looked behind him, seeing the others experience the same.

The awe and wonder on their faces, even on Bull’s, was unmistakable. This was no longer _their_ Skyhold.

Everything was rebuilt, as if it was brand new. In the sky, magic orbs hovered and moved around them. Lush trees and flowers blossomed. Gone were the makeshift panels and efforts of fixing Skyhold they had done, the scaffolding had disappeared as if it was never there.

This was as the fortress had been when it was first built.

“ _Amazing_ ,” Dorian whispered, and Varric muttered in agreement.

Approaching the steps towards the castle itself, in the courtyard there was a large wolf statue, and a statue of a dragon. The voices stirred in him, as he looked at them. _Fen’Harel and Mythal_ the voices told him, but he had known that already.

The amulet was in his breast pocket, next to the feather necklace under his uniform. He straightened his shoulders, ignored the beating of his heart pounding and threatening to jump through his throat if it could.

He wondered if this was how Ashara had felt, coming back from the battle. It had been similar, of them walking in, and then looking up to see Josephine and Leilana waiting for them on the top of the stairs. But instead of Inquisition members lining the courtyard to cheer for their return, there were Elves dressed up in formal wear, and some other races mixed in among them.

As they approached the middle of the courtyard, and he looked up to the stairs, his eyes went wide. He swallowed hard, and did everything he could to steel himself, to not go immediately running up the stairs.

Waiting for them were two people, a man and a woman. The man was unmistakably Solas, though he wore finer clothing than they had ever seen him in before. Green and gold armor, and furs. He wore a small black crown on his head, nothing of detail that stood out. 

Next to him, was the woman Cullen had been searching for, for a year. Standing tall next to Solas, dressed in an outfit similar to what she had worn to the Winter Palace, but decorated in silvers and blues. Her hair was up, braids around her head like a half crown, and woven into it were blue feathers. Her arms were covered by a cloak that looked strikingly similar to his own that he used to wear, though it matched the colors of her own armor. She wore a crown that of silver, matching Solas’.

His heart lurched uncomfortably, seeing her standing there as the queen. Something that she never wanted to be, with a man he never wanted her to be with. She should have stayed with him. She should have…

 _If I ever become royalty, you know something is wrong_.

The King and Queen nodded to their guests, and smiled, before turning around and walking into the castle.

“Andraste’s ass, did you _see_ them?” Varric whispered.

“Yes, Solas seems to have a sense of fashion after all,” Dorian remarked, but there was no happiness to the tone.

“Let’s get this over with,” Bull muttered, “Something feels wrong.”

They made their way through the courtyard and towards the stairs, but someone stopped them. “Your rooms are this way, my friends.”

Varric was the first to turn around, and Cullen had never seen Varric react in such a way. But it was familiar, knowing the feeling well. “Cassandra?”

“Varric,” The Divine grinned, though she was not dressed as such. She was in a simple black outfit, though she did wear the markings _of_ her being Divine. The two of them ran towards each other, and Cullen watched them as they kissed, happy to reunite.

“Cassandra, what are you doing here?” Leilana asked, “You were able to get away from your duties?”

Cassandra and Varric had pulled away from each other, but he held tightly onto her hand, as if she’d slip away.

Cullen knew that feeling, that desire, well.

“I was requested here by the… _royalty_ of Tarasyl'an Te'las. To help bring peace,” She said softly, “We have a full guest wing to ourselves.”

“Wing? This place has never had…” Josephine started, but Cassandra laughed.

“I do not know what they did here, but they restored this place to what it _could_ be. What we did not see when we came here before. Come. Let me show you.”

The magic curled around all of them as they walked. Cullen felt it dancing on his skin, heard the voices sing out in harmony with it. Part of him felt uneasy with each step. But the other part? It welcomed it. As if it was a way to simply be closer to her. Why the voices had gotten louder again now, he hadn’t been certain the reason.

They sang beautifully, calming the nerves he had, as if he was dancing on air.

This was not the Skyhold that he knew. But, perhaps after almost a year, things were not at all as he knew anymore.

***

They had made their way into the main hall hours after their arrival, a gathering in full swing. Cullen once again found himself in shock; the appearance put the Winter Palace to complete shame. He actually found himself chuckling at the notion that Empress Celene did not have the finest castle in Thedas any longer, that the once destroyed, abandoned, and worn down Skyhold was a magnificent palace with a name that had once been lost to time.

Nothing here had been lost to time.

Magic orbs floated in the air, with light and sparks of color. Music colored the air around them, mixing beautifully with the magic, and Cullen had to pinch himself to be certain that he was not dreaming.

Though, if this had been a dream, he would be finding Ashara under a completely different circumstance. Not one where she was Queen to someone who Cullen had once known as their ally, and now was – if Leilana was to be believed, and the voices that corrected him – was Fen’Harel.

The other man that Ashara had been tethered to.

The thought darkened his look, swallowing down the jealousy and anger that came with it. When he had woken up alone almost a year ago, he had not thought he had somehow driven her into the arms of another.

Had he?

Their tether was still strong, their connection was still there. He could actually feel it growing, curling down the rest of his arm, not quite reaching his fingertips. Knowing she was near was enough to encourage it in ways it had not been in years. It was not content to remain contained. It was desperately trying to crawl to its other half.

Cullen understood that pull. Desperately wanted the same, and was trying to hide how he was searching for her face among the crowd, but was yet to find it.

Nobles of all races were here, dancing and mingling. Discussions in the corners and sides of the hall, and the center of it all held a dance floor where couples elegantly swirled and floated on. Laughter, love, sounds of merriment.

His companions had even gotten caught up in it. Dorian had said it best, for them to join in and enjoy the festivities before things went sour. They were, after all guests.

And it seemed here, no one cared what your station was, or who you were.

The Divine Victoria was not Divine here. She was a woman blissfully in love with her well known storyteller, sitting off to the side as she looked into his eyes with love and he entertained her with stories of their time apart.

The Qunari and Tevinter were not bound by their pasts, and were dancing together slowly, Dorian resting his feet on Bull’s, as Bull guided them around. There was not a second glance their way. Just acceptance.

The Spymaster and Ambassador were gossiping and laughing, as if there was nothing in the world that was weighing them down. True enjoyment and happiness, not something he had seen on his friends in a long time.

It was as if everything was built here to bring people away from the masks that they wore. And it was then that Cullen noticed there was not a single physical mask being worn. Everyone was showing _exactly_ who they were.

The Amulet weighed heavily in his breast pocket, and he was more than aware of why they were here.

Why he couldn’t fully enjoy himself, when he was here for one thing.

To help her, no matter what that meant.

He had promised that no matter what, he was there for her. He would understand. He was struggling to understand this, to understand what was happening in Skyhold that was still _not_ Skyhold.

The voices sang still, of love and acceptance and understanding, and it was making him uncomfortable.

 _Come to me_ , the voices sang, and Cullen inhaled sharply.

Because it hadn’t truly been the voices he had been used to before.

It was hers.

His heart seemed to jumpstart, and he felt himself being pulled in a direction. He followed the pull, weaving in and out of the crowd, being seen and yet not seen at all. When he reached the door, he opened it.

It was the rotunda, all the paintings he had known Solas to be working on. The tower itself was different, but the paintings were exactly as they had been.

Sans for one he did not recognize.

He felt himself drawn towards it, a painting of a lion and a wolf, looking lovingly up at a large blue bird by the sun. Cullen reached out, and touched the part of what had been painted of the lion’s fur. White and gold flakes.

He swallowed hard.

He did not hear the footsteps, but he heard the voice. “She had asked me to finish it.”

Cullen pulled his hand back from the painting, and turned to face Solas. Or, Fen’Harel. Or both. He stared at the man with a furrowed brow.

“Ask the voices, then. Of who I am, if you suspect correctly.”

The voices sang out who it was, that Cullen had it correct. “I know who you are.”

Solas had seemed to find this satisfactory, as he nodded and walked to stand next to Cullen in front of the painting. “When we came back to reclaim this keep, we changed everything minus this. I had started this before I left the Inquisition. She requested I finish it.”

Cullen stood a little straighter, glancing at Solas. “Is this meant to be the three of us?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Cullen turned fully to face Solas, and the other man returned the gesture in kind. “Why bother with this when she left with you anyway? Why call us here? Why do any of this?”

A sly smile crossed Solas’ features, but left as soon as it had appeared. “Is it not obvious?”

Cullen stared at him, but did not reply.

“Because I loved her. I believe both you and I would do anything she asked. In fact, I believe that we have.”

“And yet, here we stand. Why torture me like this?”

“Cullen, this is not torture,” Solas sighed. He turned away from Cullen, hands moving from behind his back, to his front. He gestured at the painting, “I never painted anything in here that was not a decision of her own. All of these tell the story of her decisions. This,” He nodded towards the newest one, “Is a reflection of her past and present. As I mentioned, she requested I finish it.”

Solas walked away from Cullen then, pacing around the room slowly to look at the paintings. Cullen followed the man’s movements, but did not move from the general area he stood.

“I was to destroy this world, did you know that?” Solas asked, the question hanging in the air as if he had asked what Cullen’s favorite color had been. “She would be at my side when I did that. We’d tear the veil down, and restore the Elven people to what we _were_. What we should have been when I…” He trailed off, and waved his hand as if whatever he was going to say would not matter. “The voices, I know they tell you the history of this place. What they speak is true.”

Whispers of what had happened here, whispers of the past, whispers singing through Cullen’s mind, momentarily overwhelming him. He blinked, inhaled sharply to try to will it to stop. “But you do not wish to destroy this world any longer? What changed that?”

“She found another way, she found… _peace_ where I had thought to bring war. What you see here, Tarasyl'an Te'las, this is her doing.” Solas stopped pacing near Cullen then, and shrugged his shoulders, “She has a way of changing our perceptions. A fact I know you understand.”

“I am glad then, that you haven’t destroyed the world and you won’t,” Cullen replied dryly, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what you both have built here, is wonderful. Beautiful, even. But I do not see how—”

“She does not love me,” Solas interjected, his eyes meeting Cullen’s for the first time in the conversation. “We will always be a part of each other’s lives, but I am man enough to not stand in the way of her true happiness. That was never with me, despite my desire for it to be true.”

Cullen found himself frozen briefly, not sure how to react. “She is your Queen.”

“In name only,” He replied. His eyes changed then, into one of concern, “Did Cole give you the rest of the message?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know why you’re really here.”

 _If I ever become royalty, you know something is wrong_.

“Where is she?”

Solas gestured to the door behind them, which would lead outside to what had been Cullen’s former room. “I am afraid we do not have much time.”

Cullen’s anger rose, “Why…why waste time then? Why throw this _gala_ , why have all of—”

“She wanted her friends to have good memories, before the worst happened.”

“The…” Cullen swallowed hard, “Bring me to her, Solas. Now.”

They did not waste another moment in the rotunda, and left to head outside. This part of the castle, at least, had remained the same. But when they reached the door, and Solas opened it, it was to reveal a space that Cullen didn’t think could actually be possible.

It had to be evolved with magic, as the room itself was larger than what had been her quarters, with a staircase leading to a second level. Solas lead them up the stairs, and Cullen inhaled sharply.

She was here.

Right in front of him, sitting on a lounge sofa, though her back was to them. She was looking out the large beautiful windows, at the view below.

“I must warn you,” Solas said softly, “That you may not like what you see.”

Cullen did not hear him, the voices singing to him, pulling him towards her. “Ashara,” He said, and she stood up from the sofa and walked towards him.

“Cullen,” Her eyes were filled with tears, and he ran to her side, to embrace her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and she buried her head in his neck, holding onto him for dear life. He pulled back to kiss her, and

_Help her. She is losing her battle. Mythal is with her, and we help Mythal._

He hesitated.

“The voices told you,” She said softly, and he heard her voice break slightly. He sighed shakily, but did not reply.

She took a step back from him, and she went to remove the cloak she wore, but winced. Solas appeared at their sides, and gently helped her remove the cloak. He took it and rested it over the sofa.

It was then that Cullen saw it. Her left arm, where the anchor had only been in her hand, had completely corrupted her entire arm, all the way to her shoulder. He gasped out, “Ashara, oh Maker, _no_.” He did not stop himself, he cried.

She lifted her hands to touch his cheeks. “I took…I took Mythal within me, to stop the spread,” and as if on a cue, the anchor flared, and she took a step back, wincing in pain.

“It helped, for a few months,” Solas added in, sadly. “It is a lot to explain, but the only thing that can help either contain or remove it, is the Amulet.”

Ashara moved to the sofa, and the men followed her. Solas stood to the side, and let Cullen comfort Ashara, to kneel in front of her.

“I have the Amulet,” He said softly, looking at Ashara. “I don’t know how I got it.”

“I compelled you to get it,” Ashara replied, and there was more pain in her voice now than had been when the magic flared up. “You...Cullen, you drank from the Well.”

“You are bound to Mythal,” Solas added, quietly.

“And I have Mythal within me.” Ashara finished, “The voices were only able to call to the Amulet if Mythal told them, and…Cullen, I am so sorry. I am so sorry I tricked you.”

“Tricked me? I found…” But Cullen’s voice died immediately after. He knew how he had found the Amulet. Where he had been. What had happened the night before.

The kind and beautiful bartender with a smile he found familiar but couldn’t quite place.

How they had felt so comfortable around these folks that knew the Inquisition. Worked for them.

“The Inn,” He said softly, and rose from where he had been kneeling. He moved instead, to sit next to her, “Why didn’t you just…”

She cried. “We couldn’t tell you, you had to believe it was of your own finding, or it wouldn’t have worked, and I am _sorry_. Standing in front of you, to see you so close to me, and I couldn’t reach out and…” She swallowed hard, “It ruined me. I am so sorry we wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t…” The anchor magic flared again, and he watched as she looked from him to Solas.

“It’s too close together,” Solas was trying to maintain his composure, but he was losing.

Cullen was too. “What can I do, what do we do?” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled the amulet out, and held it out. Neither Solas nor Ashara took it. “You needed this! Take it!”

“We need Dorian here,” Ashara spoke again, and took Cullen’s hand in hers, though she did not touch the amulet.

“Why?”

She squeezed his hand, and it was then that he noticed her tether to him reached all the way down to her fingertips. Ashara was not the one to reply.

Nothing prepared Cullen for Solas’ reply. Nothing would stop him from the feeling of his world crashing down underneath him _again_.

“Once we start the ritual, it is going to take everything out of her. We need someone who has the magics to bring someone back to life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting a little early, and i see that we hit 1000 hits just as this chapter brings us over 100k words! thank you all so much for reading :) 
> 
> also, you may have noticed that i've updated the chapter count...dun dun dun. so with that being said, i am switching to only updating on wednesdays, as we reach the end. thank you for hanging out and reading this little story of mine!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short(er) chapter, so posting early!

It did not take long to gather Dorian, who had pulled Bull along.

Who then had managed to get the rest of them.

But while most of them waited on the lower level of the room, Dorian joined Solas, Ashara, and Cullen on the second level. And Dorian had cried at the sight of his best friend to see that she was alive, and cried to see what had happened.

It did not take long to get him caught up, though Cullen was finding it hard to follow along.

“…once the amulet gains full power, it will pull from Mythal, but that is the only thing stopping the anchor’s magic from completely changing her. She was never meant to hold that much power—”

“—and whose fault is that _Fen’Harel_?” Dorian snarled.

“Dorian,” Ashara’s voice was broken but she called to her friend, “I have already forgiven him, and you need to if you’re going to get me out of this when it’s time. Do you understand me?”

Dorian’s fiery glare left Solas to soften when he looked at Ashara, and he nodded. “I just…”

“I know.”

How she was so composed right now, at the last resort of them saving her, was something Cullen could not understand, but was trying. “What do I need to do?”

“When it’s time, Cullen, put the amulet on her. And then, I will call on the voices from you.” Solas said, and Cullen swallowed.

“The voices?”

“They will go to the amulet, and soothe the magic as it leaves her. You were never meant to have that power for long.”

He nodded. Anything that would be needed, anything he could give, anything that would save her. That would bring her back to him.

It had been almost a year, and Cullen had never actually thought he would ever see her again. And now she was laying on the sofa, as Cullen kneeled on the floor beside her. He held onto the Amulet, waiting for Dorian and Solas to give the okay to begin.

They did.

Gently, he put the amulet on her, clasping it behind her neck, but did not let it drop to her chest yet. He was waiting for her, waiting for her approval.

She whispered, “Ar lath ma,” and nodded.

He gently let the amulet touch her skin, and he watched as she arched back, eyes closed, and screamed out in pain as the anchor’s magic started to fight against it. Dorian and Solas quickly started to cast magic over it, and Cullen wasn’t certain to what it was.

His hand dropped from Ashara’s,

To see her crying out in agony, the magic pulsing through her veins on her arm, it was _killing_ him. If she were to perish now, if she were to leave them…he was not sure he would be long for the world after. The months away from her had felt like years, and if he were to lose her…

He was powerless to do anything.

The voices called out, wanting to protect the ‘goddess’ they served, and Cullen found him agreeing for the first time since their combined prison.

Dorian and Solas worked together to cast whatever it was, though it was obvious just on watching them work that Solas was far more powerful now than any of them had known. The voices told Cullen bitterly that he was at full power, but Cullen didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything than Ashara, and if this was going to work, they needed all the power they could get.

Their magic didn’t fight against each other, it worked _together_ to save her, brilliant flashes of colors and things he never experienced before. Magic had always been something he was fascinated by – even when he was taught not to trust it.

“Cullen,” Solas asked, “Are you ready?”

Cullen nodded and moved to Ashara’s side. “Whatever she needs.”

The amulet on her chest held a dull glow to it.

“You are going to need to have a strong connection to her, remove your gloves,” Solas continued, and Cullen did as he requested, and saw his tether to Ashara had completely gone down to his fingertips, and was glowing with magic. He didn’t ask Solas what he needed to do next, he grabbed Ashara’s hand – her own tether down to her fingers, and held onto her tightly.

Cullen immediately felt a burst of magic flow through him, and he called out in surprise – though not in pain. He could feel the voices leaving him. The pull of taking pieces of him as they escaped, and he held on tightly to Ashara as she screamed out in pain.

The magic of the Well, the pull reached their fingers, and Cullen just focused on Ashara, whispering that he was here, that he was going to help save her. Magic moved from him and fully into her, and as he felt the last speck of the Well leave him, Ashara’s eyes opened and glowed a bright and brilliant white.

He held onto her, now no longer to hold the magic to her, but to hold her close. To keep her _tethered_ to him, to keep her here and safe with him.

_Do not leave me now._

Solas and Dorian continued casting, and Cullen watched as Ashara’s body started to light up brighter than it had before.

“The magic, it’s growing way too fast!” Dorian cried out, and Cullen held onto Ashara tighter.

“Do not lose focus!” Solas called back.

The amulet started to brighten as well, matching the glow from Ashara’s eyes, as if it was pulling all the magic from her.

But it was pulling the wrong magic.

It happened so fast, that Cullen wasn’t able to react. Solas and Dorian couldn’t stop it.

The magic from the anchor started to crystallize up Ashara’s arm, and soon spread all over her body like wildfire.

In an instant, her body was completely captured in a crystal, the magic formed around her body like it was supposed to be there.

Cullen didn’t pull his hand away from her fast enough, and the magic curled up to his wrist, crystallizing his hand in hers, and the magic stopped.

Ashara was not crying out any longer. She had grown silent, her face frozen in screaming pain.

“What did you _do_?” Cullen screamed at Solas, “What have you done? You said—”

“I did not do this!” Solas snapped back, “Do you really believe that I would—”

“Enough! Fix this, Solas!”

Dorian wasn’t lowering his hands though, as he closed his eyes and cast. “She’s not gone.”

“What?” Cullen asked, his voice starting to color from the agony of _losing her_ to whatever this was. Even if he was bound to her, in ways he hadn’t expected.

“She’s not dead.”

Cullen watched as Solas inhaled sharply, and seemed _relieved,_ and he placed his hand on Ashara’s crystallized form and closed his eyes.

The elder mage stayed quiet for a few moments, before opening his eyes.

“Dorian is right. But I am sensing there is..something else.”

Dorian growled, “What _now_?”

“It is up to her now.” Solas softly spoke, and removed his hand and backed away. He looked to Cullen, “Your hand is crystalized in hers. Can you feel her?”

Cullen swallowed hard, and sighed. He couldn’t move his hand, he couldn’t squeeze it, he couldn’t get a reaction, he…

“Concentrate. Remember how you reached her before. How she reached _you_.”

“What?”

“We can put a barrier over you both, and take care of you, as long as it takes. We don’t know how much time we have.” Solas sighed.

“Cullen,” Dorian’s voice was rough, and Cullen didn’t want to look the man in the eye. “Solas is right. You’ve reached her before.”

He had. Through the fade, but was he able to do that still? She had some how reached him through the tether but…

“Cullen. Go help our girl.”


	22. Chapter 22

She was in a field.

The wind was warm. It wasn’t too strong, and it flowed freely through her dress, the blue garment floating behind her gently. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. She should be at peace.

Something was wrong. Something was _terribly_ wrong.

The moment she realized it, the birds stopped singing. The wind stopped blowing. The fabric fell to her body, and everything went still.

Silence curled around her like a blanket, but she didn’t want it.

She moved her hands up her neck and to her hair, and pulled the braids around her hair gently – in a movement the braids came undone and her hair fell around her. With it, blue feathers fell from her hair but instead of landing on the ground, stayed frozen in the air.

Reaching out to touch one, it disintegrated in her touch.

The sun started to set slowly, and the peaceful field quickly started to feel less at peace and more like she was in danger.

“My dear girl, nothing good lasts.”

A figure of a woman appeared from the middle of the field. Elven, elegant dress, and Ashara could feel old magic. Magic she knew. Magic she had pulled into herself. Though she could not see the woman’s features, she knew.

“Mythal?”

The woman made an approving sound, and then _tsk_ d. “Quite the predicament we are both in, Nislean'ean.” Mythal reached Ashara’s side, and ran a finger up her arm, anchor contained, but not by much. Mythal then tapped the amulet that Ashara wore. “Do you understand what is happening?”

Ashara did nothing but shake her head. She could not think to do anything else.

Mythal studied her, pushing a piece of her hair back behind her ears. “I almost wish we never had to have this happen.”

“What?”

Mythal’s hand slipped from behind Ashara’s ear, and Ashara felt fingernails tap against the tether behind her neck. “I should not have used his connection to you to trick him so.”

Ashara took a step back quickly from Mythal, “What? What are you—”

Mythal did not seem phased by the questioning, and in fact she seemed to be amused by it. “When it was discovered there was a young elf who was tethered to Fen’Harel, I had to see it for myself. I visited you quite a bit, though you never quite remembered it. When I spoke with him, I poked his curiosity. That when you called to him in desperation, that he should go to you. I had expected him to use you as a means to avenge me. I had _not_ expected him to…care for you.” She sounded angry. Disgusted almost, and Ashara could feel that radiating off of her. Off of both of them.

“I never asked for his tether,” She spat back, and Mythal laughed.

“We never ask for them, do we? But yet they are a part of the universe that we still do not fully understand. In my youth, I would have treaded more carefully, I wouldn’t have used it like this. I would have protected you both from each other.”

“And now?”

“I have traveled with Flemeth for a long time. I have gotten a taste for vengeance and revenge.”

“So, messing with me? What is that?”

Mythal laughed, her voice with tones of Flemeth, “An experiment. One that…has gone wrong. You’ve lead him _off_ the path, Nislean'ean. I expected better. You were so…different before.”

Ashara scoffed, “Taking away memories of who you are will do that to a person. Both of you made mistakes. I don’t know why I need to keep paying for them.”

“Because who else will? Once, he walked a path of death, to bring down this world even if it meant ending himself with it. And now, he wants peace? What is to happen of those who murdered me?”

“They are locked away! They are jailed!” Ashara raised her voice, feeling anger. Frustration that once again, she was being pulled at by Ancient Elven mages who felt they knew better. They didn’t. None of them did.

Mythal _laughed_ at her expression, and shook her head. “You’re angry. But you’re connected in ways you never thought possible. Of course, the tether I added was only temporary.”

“What?” Ashara touched her tether on the back of her neck, not able to see it, but could feel the magic in it. As if it was at war with itself. It was painful, and it was stronger than she liked. “What do you mean temporary?”

“The amulet isn’t to take the anchor and it’s magic from you, Ashara. It is so I can take over _you_. You already willingly took my spirit and magic into you, because Fen’Harel thought it was best. Your _human lover_ has returned the Well to me. All that’s left, is to break free of you. And once I am...the tether I marked you with will erase all the others on your body, and I will be reborn.”

Ashara’s hands dropped to her side, her hands curled into fists. “No.”

“No?” Mythal laughed again, “Do you think you have a choice? Right now, your companions think you are dead. Captured in the crystalized form of the magic. Fen’Harel always thought the amulet would save you, because he believed what I told him. It was never going to save you. The only person it was ever going to save was _me_.”

Ashara moved to attack Mythal, but was frozen in place, and screamed out in pain. The magic in her flared, and Mythal laughed again. “If you just give up, it would be much easier.”

“You are supposed to be the All-Mother! You are supposed to be the protector!”

Mythal was on her in a flash, her hand around Ashara’s neck, “And look where that got me, Nislean'ean! Thousands of years of not being given my due. It’s time. I will finish what Fen’Harel started, and could not end. I will not be swayed by a pretty face and a promise of _friendship_ ,” she growled.

Her fingers tightened on her neck and Ashara struggled against her. The more she struggled, the more the hang tightened.

_Come back to me. I only just found you again, I will not lose you._

His voice cut through the air, and it surprised Mythal enough that she broke away from Ashara, who dropped to her knees and gasped for air. She pushed herself up from the ground and she heard it again.

_You need to fight. Please, love, fight._

Cullen’s voice was soothing as it had been when she was in the Fade in Adamant. It was soothing as it had been when they were in bed at night, simply laying in each other’s arms.

Mythal pulled the magic from the anchor to stun Ashara, and the former Inquisitor yelled out in pain, as her hand shook. The power was erratic and quickly going out of control. If it continued to go in the way it was, she would be destroyed.

But she wasn’t _physically_ here, was she.

Still Mythal pulled the magic, to pull at the strings that could unravel Ashara piece by piece, and she was struggling to hold on.

Mythal was laughing. The correct description was _cackling_ , and Ashara narrowed her eyes. If Mythal wanted the magic of the anchor, she could have it.

But the magic that Ashara had, it was her own.

She had a level of knowledge that someone like her shouldn’t have.

She was, after all, trained by one of the only living Ancient Elves to walk Thedas.

Ashara put her hand with the anchor behind her back, and focused her mana towards her other hand. Her tether to her Vhenan, his voice comforting and calling into the air.

He had come back to her before. She only owed it to come back to him, didn’t she?

Electricity sparked in her veins, and it pushed the magic of the anchor away from her heart. The shocks moved through her arm, lighting up her tether down to her finger tips and she blasted a wave of electricity towards Mythal.

If the woman had thought to laugh at the gesture, it was gone when it hit her, flying her across the field.

Ashara’s eyes glowed white, and the wind in the field started to pick up, an elemental magic wind curling around both of them. To contain them.

“You don’t have a staff,” Mythal spit out, as she stood up, furious, “You should not be able to do this.”

“We’re not in the waking world. And, I don’t need a staff to be dangerous,” Ashara replied, “Neither do you.”

She would not be weak. She would not be defeated. She would not lose herself to Mythal.

She wanted to get back to her life. She wanted to stop living in the shadows. She wanted to be free to do what she wanted. She wanted to save her friends, even the one that had betrayed her the most. She wanted to be with the man she loved.

Nothing, she decided, nothing would stop her. Not now, not ever again.

“I am done being used as a weapon by others,” She screamed out, as their magic clashed against each other, fire and electricity waring in the air between them, getting pulled up by the strong winds, “I am no one’s weapon but my _own_.”

With one hand behind her back, Ashara warred with Mythal. She warred with the woman whose spirit she carried, who Dalish prayed to and worshiped, who had found corruption in the travels with the a witch of the wilds.

And she could feel something else pushing through her arm, through her tether.

Her connection to Cullen.

The more he held onto her, the stronger she felt. The more she was able to fight back, and push on. The feeling of his love. Feeling his pride towards her. Overwhelming desire to see her again, to be with her, to be free of the things that stood between them. Love. It was love.

Ashara pushed forward, focusing on casting, on deflecting, and while she was getting hit, she wasn’t getting knocked down. Mythal fought strongly, but she was losing her ground. The power from the Well, the voices once held by Cullen, called into the winds: _We will protect you. She is not who we knew_.

A fireball slammed against Ashara’s shoulder, and she stumbled back, her concentration broken.

Another fireball knocked her to the ground, on her back. The winds around them promptly disappeared.

Ashara tried to push herself up by her hands behind her, but Mythal was upon her, and her foot was on Ashara’s chest.

"You put up a good fight,” Mythal spoke, victorious, “But I won.”

Her victory was short lived, as there was a wet sound of a sword striking her. Mythal looked down to see a sword sticking out of where her heart was. The sword was pulled out and Mythal stumbled back, and to the ground.

As she fell, Ashara looked up to see Cullen standing there with his sword. She smiled.

Mythal fell to her back, and as she did, a dark spirit left her and screamed out like a banshee, moving to attack.

Ashara blasted it with electricity, and it exploded into dust, and faded away.

Cullen was at Ashara’s side in an instant to help her up, but she shook her head. Using the strength that she was regaining, she crawled over to Mythal. The woman was not filled with vengeance and revenge as she had been moments before. She looked serene, and peaceful.

“Nislean'ean,” She said softly, reaching her hand out, and Ashara took it, and held on. “My child, I am so sorry.”

“Is it a trick?” Cullen asked, joining them, kneeling next to Ashara.

Ashara shook her head. “No. I can’t explain it, but…this is the _real_ Mythal.”

Mythal nodded, “In spirit, at least. I am so sorry. I was blinded and corrupted for so long…”

“All-Mother, you do not—”

Mythal shook her head, “I do. If we are to save you, I do. Lean closer to me. Please.”

Ashara nodded, letting go on Mythal’s hand and leaned in. Mythal reached out and touched the tether on Ashara’s neck, and spoke something that Ashara had never heard, nor could understand. Magic poured out of Mythal’s touch and onto the tether. The tether glowed bright blue and then faded before it was gone completely.

“The anchor will not harm you any longer, child. While your tether to him was real _enough_ , it has served its purpose. It saved him, it saved the world. It saved _you_.” Mythal smiled sadly, as Ashara touched her neck, not feeling any connection there any longer.

Mythal sat up, and looked at the hole where Cullen had stabbed her and waved her hand over it, healing it. Before Cullen protested, Mythal corrected, “This is not the physical. _I_ am not physical. But know that you still won. You both did.”

If this made any sense to Cullen, or if it did not, he did not say either way.

“In…” Cullen started, but his voice faltered slightly, “She’s covered in crystal. The anchor completely overwhelmed her, this…” He held up his hand, and Ashara looked in amazement to see that his tether was now like hers, “Was all that kept my connection to her.”

Mythal nodded, “You came at the right time. And not a moment too soon.”

Ashara in that moment cried out, as she looked at the anchor on her hand. “I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt me any longer!”

“Once the ritual is complete. My spirit will return to the amulet. But you have no need to fear me returning to the corrupted state I once was. I would _not_ see myself become that again.”

Mythal stood up, with Ashara and Cullen joining her. Cullen stayed back a bit, but close, as Mythal took Ashara’s hands into her own. She leaned forward, and whispered something into Ashara’s ears, and then smiled at her.

Ashara nodded, and took a deep breath.

The two women embraced, and slowly, Mythal faded away.

It was then just Cullen and Ashara.

“What now?” He asked, reaching out for her, and she took his hand.

“Now, we face the music,” She smiled.


	23. Chapter 23

The green crystal surrounding her body shattered and the pieces dissolved into the air before it hit the ground, but Ashara did not come out of it screaming. She relaxed her body, and felt a tug on her hand.

Cullen, holding onto her, smiling at her, tears in his eyes.

She practically fell off the couch and into his arms, and held onto him tightly, gasping out in relief.

“I’m here,” He spoke, “You’re here, you’re alive, you’re okay,” he continued, repeating the words into her ear softly.

She pulled back from the hug and kissed him, and cleared her throat.

“Ashara, are you…”

Solas’ voice sounded ruined, filled with terror of what happened, scared of what might come. She reached out for his hand, and he offered it to her, helping her up out of Cullen’s arms and to stand. Cullen moved to stand as well, though he leaned against the couch.

“I’m okay, Solas,” She said softly, and pulled the amulet off her neck. “She wanted me to give this to you.” She turned Solas’ hand around, and in his open palm, placed the amulet that held a dull glow once more. Ashara slipped into Elven, “ _It is what remains of her, and she wishes for you to release her. She said you knew the place._ ”

His eyebrows furrowed, as he looked from her to the amulet, “ _Is she…”_

 _“I’m not sure. Her spirit…”_ She gestured to his hands. He closed his fist over it, and allowed himself to lower his head and cry for a moment, and Ashara placed her hands on his shoulders.

_“Now I must endure.”_

“ _Not alone. Not anymore.”_ Ashara replied softly, and Solas lifted his head. She switched to common again, “I have one more thing to return to you.”

“Return to _me_?”

Ashara grabbed his left arm, and pushed his sleeve up, revealing his tether to her. Behind her, she heard Cullen shift. He had never seen it. Solas was aware of the eyes on them, and cleared his throat. She placed the anchor against the tether, and she closed her eyes.

The magic that had been his unknotted itself from her own magic, releasing it and allowing their magic to once more be separate. It flowed through her veins and out, the green magic fading as it fully left her and returned back to its rightful owner.

As the last piece returned to Solas, his eyes glowed and then faded. He blinked in surprise, and then looked down to his tether to her. They both watched as the tether faded and then disappeared as if it was never there.

“Our connection served its purpose,” He said softly, understanding, but Ashara could not deny the sadness in his voice.

She turned to Dorian and Cullen, and nodded, “Do you mind giving us a moment?” Dorian was set to protest, but Cullen stayed silent as he nodded, and escorted both of them out.

She’d thank him for his understanding later. Once she knew she was alone with Solas, she turned back to him. “It doesn’t mean we’re not still who we are to each other,” She said, softly offering a smile. “You are still the first family I really knew. The first man I loved. I’m who I am today because of you, even with all the mistakes we made along the way. We don’t need a tether to stay connected.”

He sighed softly, nodding. “You are right, Ashara. You always have been.”

“Not Nislean'ean?”

“You are no more Nislean'ean than I am Fen’Harel anymore, don’t you think?” He offered a sly smile at this, and she laughed.

“So what of all of this? The ‘kingdom’ we built?”

Solas sighed, “I have been giving that some thought. I’d like to sit down with you and our friends, and discuss what is next. Truthfully, I do not want to be a King. Not again.”

She laughed, “I don’t really want to be Queen. It’s too stuffy of a title.”

To that, he just laughed.

They fell silent for a moment, as Ashara moved her hand from his arm, and they put some distance between them. But he was the first to break it again, “I will admit that I am glad that we will still be in each other’s lives.”

“Of course, did you honestly think I would cast you out? I might have been mad at you before, but I am always willing to forgive. And I forgave you. I meant it.”

He stayed silent, but smiled.

From below, Leilana’s voice was heard; “Is everything alright?”

Both Ashara and Solas laughed, and Ashara looked to him. “Let’s go join our friends.”

She hadn’t stepped on the bottom floor for more than a second before she was pulled into a strong hug by Bull, and he lifted her off his feet. Ashara laughed, “Oh, did you miss me?”

“Don’t mention it, Boss,” He grunted out, but smirked. He set her down back on her feet, and she laughed.

“You _did_ miss me!”

“I said _don’t_ mention it,” He replied, and she laughed again.

To the side, Cullen just looked at her and smiled, love and patience, and she reached out her hand to him. He did not hesitate as he walked over to take her hand in his, and he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in an embrace she felt she had only been dreaming of. She felt warm, she felt safe.

For the first time since meeting Cullen, she felt like there was finally nothing holding her back from him.

Behind them, Leilana and Solas were speaking about what could be the next steps. Josephine was chatting excitedly with Dorian. Cassandra, Varric, and Bull were simply just watching everyone.

In her ear, Cullen whispered, “Promise me you will not leave again, I don’t know if my heart could take it.”

“I promise,” She replied, her voice broken, “I am never leaving your side again.”

He pulled back from the embrace to look at her, and his hands moved to either side of her face, before he leaned in to kiss her. A kiss she eagerly returned, until the sound of Dorian clearning his throat behind them broke them apart.

Cullen blushed, and Ashara laughed, and things felt _normal_.

“Now, I was promised a gala, yes? No sense on having this revamped castle go to waste.” Dorian smirked, and Josephine clapped her hands together excitedly.

“Yes! Can we celebrate?” She asked, before her smile faded only slightly, as she looked to Solas, “Is this something to celebrate?”

Solas nodded, “I think a new beginning and fresh start is worth celebrating. As Dorian said, no need for all of this to go to waste.” He smirked, as the others started to exit. Solas guided them out, and made sure that he was the last to leave.

Cullen and Ashara stayed back.

“We’ll be with you in a moment,” Ashara said softly, and Solas gave her a knowing look, but nodded and shut the door behind him as he left.

The moment the door shut, Ashara wrapped her arms around Cullen and kissed him hard, and he more than eagerly returned the gesture. She kissed him until she needed to break for air, and even then, eagerly went back for more. Despite going through the experience, they had just gone through, she just _wanted_.

She wanted to be lost in him, she wanted to have nothing else matter but him. They seemed in agreement, as they pulled at each other, undoing buttons, pushing off clothes carelessly and letting them fall where they may.

His hands against her skin made her feel like she was on fire, his lips on her neck caused her to gasp out in a way she hadn’t before.

He was real. He was here. He was solid. He was safe. He was love. He was _home_. He was her _home_ and she would not, could not be without him again.

“I love you,” She spoke against his lips, as she lead him back up the stairs towards more sturdier furniture, and in return he lifted her up in his arms and carried her up.

“Say that again,” He said, his voice raspy and raw, reaching the top of the stairs and setting her down on the couch again.

She lay down, and reached out for him, taking his hand into hers, pulling him towards her, on top of her. “I love you, Cullen.”

His lips crashed hard against hers, as he repeated “I love you,” with every kiss, every touch, losing himself to her fully.

This was what she needed. This was what she deserved. This was love, true honest fulfilling love at its finest.

And in his arms, she never wanted to leave.

She knew now that she never would.

***

To the rest of those who were gathered in the main hall, nothing out of the ordinary had transpired.

Nothing out of the ordinary, other than apparently taking place in what had been known as Skyhold, to only be known as something _else_ with two Elves as a ruling party.

The nobles gossiped about it, but the overall feeling was that it was unique and a desired change – something needed to shake up the social circles of Thedas, didn’t they?

Still, when the _Queen_ entered into the main hall in a slim gown, with the former Commander of the Inquisition on her arm, there were whispers.

Most of the eyes in the room went from her to immediately to the man identifying himself as Fen’Harel, but his reaction was not one that those in attendance expected.

If they had wanted anger or disgust from him, they got the opposite. He smiled. He took in the reaction of those around them, and he smirked towards Nislean'ean. She laughed, before she turned and looked at her dear Commander with the love that both of them deserved.

And she wasn’t his Nislean'ean anymore. She was Ashara. She was no longer tethered to him, he knew, but severing the connection still had hurt more than he had expected. It had been rough, it had been painful.

He had not given any indication of that, no, it was best to keep that to himself.

He would stay in Tarasyl'an Te'las. He had promised her that. He would work with her former colleagues (and his) to work out the new way of life. Perhaps they would reform the Inquisition as a peace keeping initiative. He was certain the new Divine would adore that, or would at least entertain the idea when she wasn’t lost in the eyes of her Dwarven lover.

The Amulet in his hand remained heavy, but he dared not to look at it with all these eyes on him. When the next opportunity arose, he slipped away to his own quarters.

He had promised he would bring Mythal to where she wanted to be, to complete the ritual of the Amulet.

He had not, though, told them what the final ritual was.

Was it a lie, to have always seen this as an outcome? He had not, of course, expected the crystallization of Ashara. Nor did he expect his magic to last with her as long as it had, or take a life of its own.

She surprised him. But she was her own being, as he was his own.

She had been alive for 36 years. He had been alive for tens of thousands more.

It would take longer for the Dread Wolf to learn new tricks. Or, easily let those around him know he had been defeated.

He closed the door behind him as he reached his quarters, and he warded the door with one that no one alive knew.

With the wave of a hand, and the will of his aura, he moved the bricks away from the wall and revealed an Eluvian. The one Eluvian that remained truly his – only moving to one location. One he had not, and would not, share with anyone.

The mirror rippled with magic as he stepped through, the Amulet heavy in his hand as he reached the other side, solid stone beneath his feet.

He hadn’t been to his Sanctuary in the mountains for years, but this was where he needed to complete the ritual. This was where he had once hoped to reside once the work had truly been finished, once he finally could be at peace.

The spirits that guarded the place greeted him as nobility, but here it was not a false title. They spoke their welcome, glad to his return, and he greeted them in kind. He would not be disturbed here.

Weaving through the passages, he finally got to where he needed to be. A balcony, overlooking the lake. Veilfire burned brightly on torches around him, and he tested pulling on the veil, ever so slightly.

It tore, easily. He closed it once more with ease.

That was not what he was here for.

The balcony held a small table, with a gold bowl on it, and he placed the Amulet there. It still held a dim glow, Fen’Harel took a deep breath.

He would get one chance at this. The amulet would be destroyed after. One chance.

Eyes closed, he held out his hands and started to pour his magic into it. He chanted out ancient words and phrases, spells that he knew through the years. He called to unlock the Amulet, to release the prisoner inside.

He had kept his promise that he would not tear down the veil, but he had never promised anything about not trying to bring her back.

There was no one around for him to pull magic from, and his focus was growing weak. The ritual was almost complete, and he pushed forward a last surge of magic, chanting the last words: _lathbora viran_.

He did not speak once the spell was complete, and he did not dare to open his eyes.

There was too much that he had already lost. Over and over again, and he did not dare consider that he lost this too.

But, a hand graced his shoulder, and he slowly opened his eyes and raised his head.

She immediately went to him, wrapping her arms around him, and he swallowed hard before he allowed himself to return the embrace. “Is this real? Or are you a trick?” His voice was far more broken than he wanted it to be, but he was weak. If this was a trick…

The woman in his arms broke the embrace, and tenderly she caressed his cheek, “Ma vhenan. Ir tel'him.” Her voice was music to his years, thousands of years without it he almost forgot what it sounded like.

He almost lost his words then, his hand moving to rest on her own cheek, hesitantly and tenderly touching her as if he was afraid it was a trick. But her magic aura pushed against his, danced against his as it had for years, and he felt his heart swell. “Mythal.” It was her. It was her, not in the body of a witch, or travelling corrupted in a former love. No, at _last_ , it was her.

“There is so much that we need to discuss…” She said softly, and he nodded.

“We finally have the time,” he replied. His eyes drifted from hers to her lips and gave a wolfish grin.

She returned the gesture, stepping towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck once more. “Time. I like the sound of that,” she softly replied, before she leaned in and kissed him.

As he kissed her back, two tethers appeared. Long since faded, but bright and marked anew. On her shoulder, a brilliant and commanding wolf. On his back, two large dragon wings. Reunited finally with his true heart, his true soul and second half.

After all, it had only been one part of the plan to get Mythal back and in his arms. So much had gone wrong, so much had gone in a direction he had not expected, but they were here now.

And now, the rest could begin.

But they had time now. Time he would not see go to waste.

What he did _not_ see, were the surprised (and concerned) looks of the former Inquisitor and her Commander, watching cloaked from the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess minor Trespasser spoilers for the location of the Elven Mountain Ruins…but also that’s been out for 5 years now so…sorry? (Shrug).
> 
> But with that, we’ve reached the end…for now. 😉 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this story and taking this ride with me! This story went in a completely different direction than I had expected, and I’m honestly thankful for that. This was so incredibly fun to write.
> 
> I will be returning to this universe, just not right away as there are other stories I want to focus on. But with the ‘Tethered’ universe, there is still so much to do, a new story to tell, and new relationships to explore, and I want to get back to it as soon as I can. There is more to Ashara and Cullen’s story and more mystery surrounding them and tethers, so when I do the next story in this universe, I hope you join me!
> 
> Thanks again for reading! 😊


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